The Memory Remains
by Fuzzy Elf
Summary: Sequel to It's All Relative. After the Times Square incident, Rogue's sister Velocity awakens from her coma at Muir Island. But the number of players in this game is steadily multiplying...
1. The Memory Remains

Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters in this story except the ones I do, you'll know them but I don't want to give stuff away. Let's just say most of these crazy peeps belong to Marvel, and that's that.

A/N - Um, this is the sequel to my first X-Men fic "It's All Relative". If you haven't read that, you probably won't get this, but if you want to read it anyway, be my guest! Hehe, just don't forget to review, okay?

The Memory Remains

Chapter 1

-----

__

And can't the band play on?

Just listen, they play my song

Ash to ash

Dust to dust

Fade to black...

...Fortune, Fame

Mirror vain

Gone insane...

But the memory remains...

---Metallica "The Memory Remains"

-----

The rain pounded down upon the jagged rocks of the cliffside of Muir Island. The harsh storm winds sent wave after wave of salty ocean water crashing angrily against the shore. The scattered trees bowed their branches to the ground, losing the battle of strength against the powerful gale.

Moira MacTaggart gazed forlornly out the window at the depressing weather. She hoped that the storm wouldn't cause a power failure; so many of her patients relied on the machines in the facility for their therapy.

She thought back on the day when the X-Men had brought a comatose Sasha Romanov to her research facility nearly four months ago. Moira recalled the sick feeling in her stomach when she'd seen the Blackbird approaching, and had jumped to the conclusion that the brain damage Morph had suffered from Sinister's experiment had once again caused him to lose control of his alternate persona - the one that despised his fellow X-Men.

Moira had been relieved to see that Morph was coping wonderfully back home, but her heart sank again after hearing their story of recent events. The mind of the girl known as Velocity seemed too far gone for even Moira to treat.

Never one to give up so easily, however, Moira endlessly researched possible ways to help the girl, but hope faded rapidly with each passing day. Sasha's brain wave patterns were closely monitored, but remained unchanging.

A clap of thunder rattled the building, and Moira held her breath as a brilliant bolt of lightning illuminated the night sky. She needn't have worried; the electricity was unaffected.

Sean Cassidy, Moira's fiancé, looked up at her from the book he was reading by the homey fireplace. He blew a strand of curly blond hair out of his face and smiled. "Moira," he called to her. She looked up. "_Relax_."

"Ye know I cannoh relax during a storm, Sean," Moira shook her head. "So many things could 'appen tha' I mus' be ready for-"

"Moira," Sean interrupted her, and she blushed and smiled softly.

"Aye, yes, I know wha' ye are going t'say," she assured him. "Everythin' will be fine."

Another flash of lightning streaked by the window and struck the limb of a sturdy tree. There was a creaking and groaning that could barely be heard through the pounding rain, and then suddenly a very audible _CRACK!_ Moira snapped her head around just in time to see the limb break off and catch the power lines in its descent.

"Sean!" Moira cried as the weight of the heavy limb combined with the force of the wind was enough to knock over the two surrounding hydro-poles. The huge cylindrical pieces of wood came crashing down, and the electricity fizzled and popped until fading to nothing, leaving Moira and Sean with only the fire as light.

*

Kevin MacTaggart opened his eyes and looked around in confusion as his little room was suddenly darkened. _Wha' is going on?_ he wondered in alarm, his eyes darting about as he sought some clue as to why he was now subject to this frightening blackness. _I donnah understand_, his mind cried as he moved to where he knew the door was. _Mother? Are ye out there?_

The boy clutched his stomach. When the 'treatment beam', as he thought of it, had suddenly been shut off, he'd awakened from his semi-conscious state. Now, a pain in his gut was forming as his mutation began to take over.

_No_, he mentally frowned as he remembered what his mother had taught him about controlling his mutant power. He struggled to keep his power in check, but the sudden awakening hadn't allowed his brain enough time to fully re-adapt to the conscious state - at the moment, his mutation was too overwhelming for his confused mind to handle.

The solid steel walls bent and wobbled to Kevin's will as the creature known as Proteus took its glowing form.

*

Moira and Sean wasted no time in scrambling down the hallways of the facility toward the patients' quarters. Though every patient's welfare was their concern, Moira's main priority was her son, Kevin.

Sean, who was ahead, stopped short of Kevin's quarters, his eyes wide, his jaw set in determination. He held Moira back from advancing, and she clung tightly to his arm. They watched in growing anxiety as the steel door seemed to melt and form a circular hole. An orange light spilled from within the room, and Proteus stepped into the hallway.

_Ye locked me in the dark!_ his voice boomed in their minds. His hollow white eyes fixed harshly on the two figures before him. _How could ye do tha' t'me?_

"Kevin, I'm sorry, I should'a known tha' your room would'a gone dark if the power-"

_No!_ Proteus's telepathic voice cut her off. _Ye knew wha' would 'appen! Ye know tha' I am afraid of the dark!_

"Please, Kevin," Moira tried again, reaching out her hand. "Ye mus' believe me."

Proteus said nothing, but stared disgustedly at her hand. He used his reality-altering power to give Moira the impression that the skin of her outstretched arm was now melting and dripping to the floor, exposing muscle and bone.

Sean jumped as Moira screamed. Though he could not see the effect of Proteus's power on her, he guessed the cause of her fear. Sean took a deep breath and shrieked at Proteus, and the Cry of the Banshee had enough force to break Proteus's concentration. Moira watched her arm return to normal, and she fell to her knees to catch her breath. Proteus turned angrily to Sean.

_Why do ye wan' to hurt me? _he cried.

"That's the last thing I want'a do, Kevin," Sean explained to the boy, and motioned to Moira. "But do ye not see tha' ye were frightening your own mother? Ye mus' stop this!" he exclaimed, hoping Kevin would realize that they wanted to help him.

*

When the electricity had gone out, a final jolt had run through the circuitry and power lines before all faded to black. Four doors down from Kevin MacTaggart's room, that jolt had traversed the wiring of a cord plugged into an electrical outlet. That cord belonged to the machine currently monitoring Sasha Romanov's brain waves. The current proceeded to short-circuit the machine, and travel up the electrodes stuck to Sasha's forehead and temples.

Sasha's subconscious self had been hard at work, piecing her mind back together as best she could, when she was suddenly and inexplicably exiled from the withdrawn state of her coma, and forced her eyes open to see nothing but darkness.

Her first thought was that it had all been a terribly realistic nightmare, and instinctively felt the area beside her, expecting to touch Pyro's warm, sleeping body. Instead, she felt nothing but air, and, losing her balance, rolled off the small bed and crashed to the floor.

After a moment to recover, she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. Her knees felt as though they would buckle, and her fingers gripped the bed in desperation as she fought to stay vertical and try to make sense of her predicament. She had absolutely no idea where she was, and felt anger rising inside of her as she struggled in a frustrated attempt to remember.

As the anger turned to a headache, her hand flew to her forehead and felt the electrodes still attached there. She roughly pulled them off one after another, until she held a bundle of seven in her cold, shaking hand, and followed their cords back to the dead machine.

_A tiny bed beside a monitor machine_, she frowned in thought, gazing at the ghostly outline of the white sheets as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and made full use of what little moonlight spilled through the barred window.

She was now aware of the sound of water splashing against a hard surface, and, like a baby taking her first steps, moved cautiously and unsurely to the window. Peering outside, she could make out the diagonal grey sparkling stripes of rainfall in the gloomy night, but anything beyond a few metres was cloaked by the downpour. No hints as to her location were to be found here.

Sasha rested her chin on the windowsill, searching her memory for the smallest clue. She had been in battle in Times Square against the FOH - she could remember that much. She recalled yelling something to Rogue, and then nothing, and then she was here. What had happened? Sasha clenched her teeth, but it was no use - she could not recall what happened next.

_Wait_. That wasn't true. _Jean_. She could remember Jean visiting her by entering her mind. The telepath had seemed saddened, but why? What had happened after Times Square? The answer eluded her, but she now remembered a name Jean had mentioned. _Moira_. She knew this name. _Moira who? Moira...MacTaggart_. That was it. _Moira MacTaggart runs the research facility on Muir Island. I am on Muir Island_.

She smiled, pleased with herself that she had figured this out. The question as to why she had needed to be hooked up to electrodes in MacTaggart's hospital remained unanswered, but at the moment, she could live with that. There was a time and a place for everything, and right now, getting out of this room seemed most important.

She felt a tremble in the foundations of the facility. _Lance?_ she thought. Could he be near, and coming to get her out of there? She shook her head, getting a sense that he and the others had conceded in her being brought here, and that would suggest that whatever had happened to her had truly been horrible. She again dismissed the question of what that had been, exactly, and turned back to the matter at hand. Could the tremble have been thunder? Or the power trying to come back on? Her intuition told her that it was something else...or maybe not so much her intuition as the scream from out in the hallway.

Sasha pressed her ear against the steel door, shuddering at the cold touch. She heard a high-pitched shriek, and then muffled voices with more than a hint of fear in them.

To her surprise, the solid steel door slowly began to drip and pool at her feet, leaving a gaping hole granting access to the hallway. She cautiously stepped through the gap, and her bare toes curled as they contacted the cold tile floor. She turned, staring through her fierce green eyes at the scene not far down the hall. She tilted her head, trying to make sense of the situation.

A great glowing orange creature stood towering over two people Sasha recognized as Moira MacTaggart and the mutant Banshee. After a moment's recollection, she knew the creature to be Proteus, or Kevin MacTaggart - Moira's son.

Remembering Proteus's abilities, she noted that the child mutant had gathered the 'melting' matter from her door and the rest of the wall in the corridor to form a waist-high trap for Moira and Banshee - a perfect distraction for a quick escape.

_Help them._

Sasha stopped, searching for the owner of the voice. It had sounded familiar, but she could not place from where. She turned once more to leave, but stopped as it came again.

_What is wrong with you? They need your help._

"Who are you?" Sasha hissed under her breath. "Where are you?"

_What does it matter? Moira and Sean are in serious danger!_

"Kevin MacTaggart will not harm his own mother," Sasha argued.

_The boy is not himself. You must distract him so Moira can reach him._

"Why should I?"

_Always thinking of yourself. If only you would give back to the world you have already taken so much from. I think you owe it to her, Romanov - if not for keeping you alive then surely for not turning you in to the proper authorities. Some people obviously still have faith in you...are you going to dishonour them and prove them wrong?_

Sasha's eyes narrowed at the idea of being preached to, but something made her realize that the voice - whoever it was - was right. "I can barely walk," she tried one last weak excuse. "I doubt that I can run."

_At the risk of sounding cliché: You can, if you believe you can._

Sasha smirked, but felt strangely reassured. She breathed deeply, feeling strength flowing through every muscle in her body, then took off down the hallway.

*

Moira struggled against the restraining grip of the steel that bound her, casting desperate, pleading looks at her son. As Proteus, Kevin seemed oblivious to her reasoning, and she wondered if she would succeed in reaching him at all.

She felt the steel loosen, and looked up in time to see what was stealing Proteus's attention: a strange blurred streak racing round and round the mutant. Time and again Proteus would recoil, and Moira guessed that the blur had hit him.

Finally, Proteus became impatient with the irritation. He diverted the steel trap from his two captives and slammed that glob of shifting matter down on the spot where the blur had been a moment before. Again and again he slammed down, becoming increasingly more frustrated with each miss.

With Proteus's back turned, Moira reached over and clasped Sean's hand. She knew that they hadn't much time before they recaptured the mutant's attention. Sean understood the urgency in her eyes, and he pushed himself to his feet and screamed. The sonic blast hit Proteus between the shoulderblades, and he fell forward, momentarily stunned, the orange glow fading to a dull shine. Moira ran into Kevin's room and, opening the emergency kit kept there, removed a syringe and small vile of clear liquid. Wasting no time, she ran back to the hallway, prepared the syringe, and injected the sedative into her son. The hall returned to normal as Kevin lost consciousness. Moira knelt and cradled the boy in her arms.

The blur stopped, taking form as a slender female with shoulder-length dark brown hair and intense green eyes. She stood leaning against the wall with her arms folded, and when she spoke, it was with a thick Russian accent.

"Nice work," she said, though there was more than a hint of sarcasm there. Then, as suddenly as she had come, she was gone.

Both pairs of eyes were still locked on the spot where she had just been. As Moira tried to form an explanation as to what they had just witnessed, Sean walked slowly down the hallway to the fourth door from Kevin's room. On the steel door, beneath the tiny, porthole window, was a label that simply read "Romanov." Beneath that was a sheet on which was typed a list of medical jargon explaining the patient's condition.

Beside the door was a security keypad. Sean quickly punched in the passcode, and the lock clicked open. He slowly pushed the door open, and wasn't surprised to be greeted by an empty room.

"Moira," he said. "We have a problem."

*

Sasha stepped out into the rain and breathed in the fresh air. The icy water pooled around her bare feet, and she swept her soaking hair from her face. Squinting, she peered through the raging weather for an idea of which path to take. She could not see clearly in any direction, and frowned.

"Any suggestions?" she asked aloud, hoping the voice she had spoken with just minutes before would once again provide input. It was silent, and she stood alone among the steady sound of the pouring rain.

It was then that she remembered that this was an island, and, if she wished to get anywhere, she would have to find the ferry to the mainland.

A great clap of thunder shook the ground, but Sasha did not flinch, for the rumble's preceding flash of lightning had provided light long enough to reveal the direction where the cliffs descended to the shore, and there was a small shape on the water - the ferry, she assumed, was still here, for whatever the reason. She took a step forward, and, ignoring the needle-like prickling of the sharp rain droplets, made her way down the hill.

*

"Mickey, what the hell are ye doin'?"

Mickey looked up at the sound of his name, wiping the water and soaking hair out of his eyes. "Wha' dosset look like I'm doin'?" the young Irishman replied indignantly. "I'm tryin' te keep thessere boat from becommin' a new landmark fer the fesh."

"The boat will no' be sinkin'," the other man, a Scot named William, replied matter-of-factly. He was large, muscular, and had a scruffy brown beard. He was the Captain of the Muir Island Ferry, and had been for many years now. If there was one thing he didn't like, it was punk kids telling him how to do his job. Especially some baby-faced Irish teen-idol wannabe.

William had hired Mickey on reputation; he'd never actually met the kid before-hand, but he'd heard of him and developed an idea of what he'd look like. Needless to say, the kid hadn't lived up to the prototype. William had been expecting a tough, rugged sailor, and had ended up with a twenty-year-old that looked like the typical cookie-cutter teen heartthrob: slender, big blue eyes, hair the colour of dark chocolate - styled to match Brad Pitt's in the movie "Snatch" (the kid's favourite movie, as it were. William figured he was just proud that a character sported his name). Much to William's relief, however, Mickey definitely lived up to his reputation. The kid was tough, never complained about the work, and business had never been better since he'd hired him. Granted the majority of new fares were female, but it was business none-the-less. Therefore, William was content with his choice, as long as the boy did what he was told.

"Aye, ye're right, sir," Mickey's eyes twinkled. "The boat willnot be senkin' - not now, a' lest."

William didn't bother to acknowledge the remark. He didn't care to hear Mickey's bragging about how he'd set the rigging and whatnot at the moment. His concern was getting back to the mainland - preferably tonight. The storm had caught them before they were finished on Muir Island, and, though he didn't mind getting wet, he was anxious to return home to his children, and wife, and the delicious meal she would have prepared. He closed his eyes and inhaled, almost able to smell the roast beef and potatoes...

No, that was cigarette smoke. William opened his eyes and looked at Mickey. The kid was sitting on the Deck with his back against a crate. He'd pulled a corner of the tarp over his head to shield the rain from putting out the cigarette that dangled from his mouth. Definitely not the teen-idol wannabe he'd first taken him as.

Seeing the larger man looking at him, Mickey grinned and pulled the box from out of his pocket.

"Smoke?"

"No." William closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the kid.

"Suit yesself, sir," Mickey replied, then pulled his jacket over his head and stood up. He put a foot up onto the boat's wall, took a quick look around, then hopped off onto the dock. Puffing away on his cigarette, he shoved his hands into his jean pockets and amused himself by wandering down the shore in search of suitable rocks to skip.

After walking a few hundred yards, he crouched down and examined a smooth, flat stone, perfectly eroded by the crashing tide. He picked it up and turned it over and over, enjoying the flawless touch against his fingers. He drew back his arm, paused, then decided that it would be wrong to throw away such a beautiful thing. He turned around, then started in surprise - his cigarette falling out of his mouth and into the sea - and nearly slipped in the mud when he saw the figure who had silently come up behind him.

"Fok me!" Mickey exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair. "Whar th'ell didjoo come from, girl? Scarred the pess outta me! Thought ye war a banshee a' first, I did!"

"The only Banshee of Muir Island haunts the facility on the hill, and dwells in his family's castle," the woman replied with a smile. "I am but a weary traveler."

Mickey studied her for a moment. She was dressed all in white - which is why, he guessed, that he had thought her to be a ghost, at first. Her clothes were completely soaked, and he fought the grin that forced its way onto his face, noticing how her bra and panties could be seen through. Her long, dark hair was plastered down the sides of her face and around her shoulders. Her feet were bare and covered in mud, as were the cuffs of her pants. He liked the sound of her voice - it made him think he'd walked into a Bond movie. Her green eyes interested Mickey; they seemed to have the knowledge that comes from seeing too much, but at the same time he gathered that she was confused, and not entirely sure of her situation.

"Too right, lass, weary, an' soaked te the bone, te boot," Mickey winked, taking one more second to eye her up. "Wha's y'name, girl?"

The woman gazed at him; her green eyes flickering. She cocked her head slightly, and Mickey fought the urge to squirm, suddenly feeling as though she were looking straight into his soul. Several awkward moments passed, with neither moving, for even the slow rising and falling of their chests as they breathed had ceased as they held their breath.

"It is Sasha," she replied finally.

"Mickey," he grinned after releasing his breath. "Please t'meetcha. Ef ye're lookin' fer d'ferry, 's'over tha' way-" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "-waitin' fer thess weadder t'ease up. Ef ye wan' te come wi' me, we'll see how much longer tell we're ready te leave."

Sasha smiled, and they walked down the shore.

* * *

Neuherzl, Germany

Rogue sat at the window of her guest room in the monastery, staring out at the stars. She had stayed there for the past four months, learning the teachings of her brother, Nightcrawler, and the other monks. She was really beginning to understand Wolverine's need to get away from the Institute from time to time, whether the destination be Japan, or home in Canada.

Of course, she still kept in touch with home, mostly through letters with Jean. The red-headed telepath was the only one who truly knew what troubled Rogue, besides maybe Xavier, but he wasn't around to talk to. Jean relayed any important information, but most news that came reported no overly unusual activity at home - nothing the rest of the team couldn't handle. The majority of problems was Lance Alvers and Fred Dukes starting bar fights. The Brotherhood had become noticeably disheartened after Sasha's fall, as though they just didn't care anymore. Pyro and Toad were rarely even seen, and there was still no sign of Mystique or Sabretooth. And so Rogue was free to stay as long as she wished, which was a relief - she was quite enjoying the sense of inner peace she was learning to get in touch with.

Unfortunately, that joy was lost by nightfall, for Rogue's dreams were still haunted by the events of four months previous. Images of her sister and the fate that befell her still crept into her mind, and she could not ignore them. And in that way, she almost sympathized with the boys of the Brotherhood.

Perhaps what troubled Rogue most was the incident back at the Institute. In the heat of the moment, the desire to save her sister's life blocking out all other emotions, she had said something she now regretted. The way she had spoken to Ms. Marvel - the sarcastic remark when she'd manifested in Velocity's body, just before Rogue made skin contact - made Rogue absolutely disgusted with herself. She had stolen the woman's life, for pity's sake, not to mention her powers, and then had left her, unknown and helpless, in a coma in the hospital.

Rogue could remember the anguish and emotional turmoil she'd gone through when Ms. Marvel had manifested in her the first time. She was so sick to her stomach when her memories came flooding back and she'd realized what she had done those many years ago. The memories Xavier had worked so hard to block out in hopes of giving Rogue a second chance in life had become her own personal inner demons, as Ms. Marvel had refused to simply roll over and die.

Rogue had wept long into the night after Jean had aided in subduing Ms. Marvel's vengeance-obsessed persona, and confined her in the dark recesses of Rogue's mind. She had truly realized then that she would never be able to fully put her dark past behind her. And as a constant reminder, there was a woman lying comatose in a hospital bed.

Scratch that. There were now _two_ women lying comatose in hospital beds. All thanks to her curse of a mutant power. Though, for one, she could partially blame one Henry Girich and his damn gizmo...

Damn him. She hated to think of how unfair it was that he was never charged for attacking mutants, or other hate crimes. No, he was charged with damaging public property and other lame-ass excuses for charges. It ate at her endlessly that she would never be able to avenge her sister for what he did. If it wasn't for him...

No, she was diverting blame again. There should have been some way to keep the Brotherhood from going as far as they did. As she should have been more focussed on the trouble rather than obsessing over seeing her sister.

Sasha. Rogue cringed when she thought of her sister having to fight Rogue's demons because of one freak accident. She knew the feeling of that extra entity sharing your mind, whether they were contained or not, and it wasn't pleasant.

Which was another problem in Rogue's mind. Ms. Marvel's persona had been very sedated since the incident. She could hardly even sense that she was there, as though she were nothing but an empty shell or a faded memory. It was more than a bit unnerving, though she couldn't place why.

Sighing deeply, she laid her head on her folded arms and fell into a light, dream-filled sleep on the windowsill.

* * *

It had still been several hours before the ferry was able to cross the rough water, but at least Sasha had been able to get out of the rain. They had no spare clothes for her to change into, but they were more than well stocked with blankets. At long last, they set off for the mainland.

Sasha sat on the couch in the messy but comfortable crew's lounge, wrapped in a warm blanket. There were rumpled blankets on the floor, and soggy rubber boots thrown in the corner. Enormous yellow rain slickers hung from a hook on the door. Mickey was a few feet away, carefully pouring two mugs of hot coffee from a stained decanter that sat on the chipped countertop. He carried them to the couch, sat down, and offered one to Sasha. She smiled and took it in both hands, drinking long and thoughtfully. Mickey then pulled his box of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, put one in his mouth, then offered the pack to Sasha. She took one, and he lit his own before handing the lighter to her.

She flicked the flint wheel and gazed longingly at the flame that appeared. Her green eyes were intense, studying the orange body of the flame, the yellow outlining glow, and the distorted fuzzy air above it as the butane burned. She continued to stare, imagining the warmth of that fire spreading through her. Inside the flame, she could almost see something taking shape: a slender smirking face with bright blue eyes and a shock of blond hair...

"Aye, pyrramaniac, are ye?" Mickey said as more of a comment than a question.

Sasha held the flame to the end of her cigarette, inhaled, and breathed out the smoke in a heavy sigh. "You have no idea," she replied, handing the lighter back to him.

"Kepp et," he shrugged. "Locks like et mens somma te ye."

She grasped the object in her palm. "Thank you."

Mickey peered at her quizzically for a few minutes, then spoke. "Ef ya don' min' my askin', wha' t'exac'ly are ye doin' 'ere? I jus' can' figger y'out."

Sasha half-smiled, and her eyes twinkled. "If you want to know the whole truth: I have no idea how I got here. Last I remember I was in New York, and then I woke up on Muir Island."

"Aye, were ye drunk, then? Stell odd, though, cuz we ne'er brought ye o'er te Muir, tha's fe'sure."

"Then I must have been flown in," Sasha frowned. How was that possible? The Hind chopper they'd brought from Russia had been totaled, and the Brotherhood didn't have access to a private jet. And there were certainly no airports on Muir. "Strange."

"Wha'?"

"I cannot remember anything after...my sister..." she trailed off, still frowning.

"Ye have amnesia'r somethin'?" he raised an eyebrow, getting worried. Maybe there was a reason she had been on an island on which a medical facility was located.

"No," she replied quickly. "No, nothing like that. I can remember everything up to one event. Then, it is a blank."

"Hangover'll do that te ye," Mickey nodded, dismissing his worry. He leaned back on the couch and inhaled deeply from his cigarette.

"I suppose," she shrugged. _More like Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder_, she thought, thought she couldn't figure out what the stress was.

_Not quite_.

Sasha jumped as the voice returned, having nearly forgotten about it.

"Y'awright?" Mickey turned his head to look at her.

"Excuse me for a minute," she said, standing up and heading outside, despite Mickey's reminding her that it was still raining. She passed the window of the Bridge, where the big man, William, was steering the ferry. He gave her an odd look, but said nothing, figuring that it was something Mickey had said. Sasha reached the most secluded area of the Deck, then spoke. "Who are you?"

_Now is not the_-

"Don't you give me any of that Deepthroat/Mr. X/Smoking Man bullshit," she spat. "You cannot just screw around in my head as you please without telling me who you are!"

_Actually, I can._

"Who are you? Grey? Braddock? Tell me, now."

_You honestly don't remember?_

"You're the one in my head. Don't you know?"

_I thought maybe you were blocking those thoughts from me. Apparently, I was wrong. In that case, I'm taking it upon myself to help you remember all that you have forgotten_.

Sasha laughed and shook her head. "I am sorry, I must have misheard you. You are going to do _what_, now?"

_You think this is funny, Romanov? That's good, because you'll need a sense of humour where we're going._

"I hate to contradict, but New York is not that funny. Well, unless you hit the comedy clubs-"

_We aren't going to New York_.

"Aha, you see, now you are wrong again. _I_ am going to New York. _I_ am going home to see my friends and my Johnny and get back to _my_ life. _You _can go wherever you want, I do not care."

_I noticed_.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

_What do you think?_

"I think," Sasha hissed, "that this conversation is over. And that my coffee is getting cold."

_So, it's back to the little Irish kid. Are you going to kill him, too?_

"Excuse me?"

_Innocent kid, just doing his job, just like that one you killed - what was it? Five months ago? The young guard in Russia, you know the one I'm talking about._

Sasha gritted her teeth. "I didn't kill him."

_You might as well have. Sending him out to Sabretooth - it would have been more humane to shoot him in the stomach with a double-barrel shotgun._

"What right do you have to judge me?" Sasha burst. "Our orders were to secure the area, and it is no secret that if they had known I was a mutant, _I_ would have been the one on the receiving end of a bullet. So, what do you know?"

_More than you think. You said you want to go home, but you can't even remember what exactly happened four months ago, can you? What if you don't have a home to go back to? What if something happened to all of them - Lance, Mortimer, Fred, and Johnny? Are you sure they're even alive?_

"They're alive," Sasha muttered, feeling a pain in her stomach at the notion of such a fate.

_Hope. Well, it's a start. Listen, you aren't ready to go back, yet. I can help you remember, but you have to want to remember, first. And, by the way, if you don't co-operate, I will make it my personal business to make your life a living hell. Understand?_

Sasha scowled, but almost admired the voice's tactics, whomever it belonged to. She took a moment to review her situation. It was true that she really had no idea what she was going back to, other than a city full of X-Men. And she wasn't overly eager for that. Besides that, she had already decided that her friends had conceded to her being taken to Muir Island, so she knew they weren't out looking for her. She rolled her eyes as she came to a decision. "So, where are we going, then?"

She could almost feel the smile in the voice's words. _Russia, my dear. Back to the nuclear research facility where this all began._

****

To Be Continued...

A/N - So, how was that for a start? Are you still intrigued? Don't forget to review, okay? Luv y'all!


	2. Holier Than Thou

Disclaimer - I STILL don't own the X-Men or any other Marvel dudes or dudettes. Sasha IS still my character however.

A/N - To everyone and anyone (esp Shadowfax ;)who was waiting for this installment: I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryitooksolongcanyoueverforgiveme???? It won't happen again; now that university's over I can concentrate on what's really important ;) WRITING! Hehe. On with the show.

The Memory Remains

Chapter 2

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__

Before you judge me take a look at you

Can't you find something better to do?

Point the finger, slow to understand

Arrogance and ignorance go hand in hand.

---Metallica "Holier Than Thou"

----

Jubilee sat sprawled on the floor in the den of the Institute with the TV remote in one hand and a can of Coke in the other. To her left was a bowl of popcorn; to her right a bowl of nachos. Beneath her was her bright yellow body pillow, and on her face was a wide glowing grin. It was movie night, and tonight was her choice.

"Jean, come _on_!" Jubilee called.

"Be patient, child," Storm told her. "She just had to finish up a few things."

"But I'm finally comfortable, and if she doesn't hurry, I'm going to have to get up and get another drink and refill the popcorn," Jubilee grumbled.

"Speaking of which: you gonna share that, kid?" Wolverine asked, and she passed him the bowl. He turned to Storm and Beast, who were sharing the sofa with him. "Morph, Cyke and Gumbo get to go out and patrol. How come I gotta get stuck here?"

"Caught by the proverbial 'Big Brown Eyes', my friend," Beast chuckled.

"What is it we are watching, Jubilee?" Storm asked.

"American Pie," Jubilee grinned.

"Didn't we watch that last time you picked?" Wolverine muttered.

"That was American Beauty," she corrected him. "But they both have Mena Suvari in them."

"Who?" Wolverine wrinkled his nose.

"I rather enjoyed American Beauty," Beast admitted, keeping Jubilee from entering a long explanation on the young actress. "It was very psychological and thought provoking."

"I just thought it was crap," grumbled Logan.

"Oh yeah, and your last three picks of Die Hard, First Blood and Escape from New York were such tasteful choices," Jubilee shot back.

"Bruce Willis, Sylvester Stallone and Kurt Russell are real role models," Wolverine argued. "Better than Kevin Spacey and the snotty teenage punks in your flicks."

"Please, you two," Storm cut in. "Can we not all just be grateful that it is not Gambit's choice tonight and we are not stuck watching Interview With the Vampire again?"

"Agreed," Jubilee and Wolverine said together.

"I rather enjoyed that movie as well," Beast frowned.

"I never figured you for a Brad Pitt groupie, Hank," Wolverine joked.

"I will have you know that, as an avid reader of Anne Rice, I enjoyed the film for its excellent portrayal of her exquisite characters," Beast replied. "The fact that Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise starred made no difference to me whatsoever."

"Not to mention Antonio Banderas," Storm smiled dreamily.

"Ewww," Jubilee groaned.

"This coming from the gal with such fabulous taste in men," Logan scoffed in defense of Storm.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jubilee sat up and glared at Logan.

The Canadian mutant smirked. "Lemme see, there was Iceman, and you had a thing for Colossus didn't you? Oh and let's not forget Longshot...need I go on?" Jubilee scowled and Wolverine continued. "Yeah, gotta love the mullet on that cross-dimensional hotshot, eh Jubes?"

"Shut up!" the girl snarled.

"Must be movie night," Jean chuckled as she appeared in the doorway, "because all I can hear is fighting from this room." Jubilee sat back down and Jean continued. "I have some news, but I haven't decided whether it is good or bad yet."

"What's up, Jeanie?" Wolverine sat up.

"I just got a call from Moira MacTaggart. Apparently Kevin had a sort of relapse last night during an electrical storm, so she needs my help with him, and could use you too, Hank."

"Of course, I will be happy to assist in any way I can," Beast nodded.

"I don't get why you're so on the fence over that, Jean," Jubilee said. "Kev will be okay."

"Oh, Kevin's problems aren't the half of it," Jean admitted. "That's just the set-up."

"Saw that coming," Wolverine frowned.

"Yes. Apparently, Sasha awoke from her coma during that storm, and, thanks to Kevin's use of his powers during his fit, managed to escape."

"And you _don't know_ whether that's good or bad news?" Jubilee's jaw dropped.

"Well, I don't want to jump to any conclusions-" Jean tried to explain.

"Then let me do it for you, Jeanie," Wolverine cut in. "No matter what you two gals said in your heart-to-heart four months ago, that chick's bad news from any direction. And I'll give three guesses where she's headed."

"Back here where her friends are," Jubilee guessed.

"Bingo," Wolverine pointed at her. "Those four meatballs have been relatively quiet lately, agreed?"

"Coping with quite a blow to reality, I assume," Beast nodded.

"Right. Haven't even seen head or tail of that fire-tossing freak since what happened. Anyone else think that'll change once his sweetheart shows up again?"

"The word 'duh' comes to mind," Jubilee said.

"We don't know that she's coming here, Logan," Jean reminded him. "We don't know her intentions; we don't even know what her mind state is. She went through an extremely traumatic experience, and suffered extensive damage to her psyche. Hank, in the most extreme scenario, isn't it possible that she doesn't even know who she is?"

"It is indeed quite possible, Jean," Beast confirmed. "In fact, with Sasha being prematurely forced from a comatose state, and from your description of the chaos in the deepest recesses of her mind, four months ago even as it were, I would deem it quite certain that some form of amnesia or other psychological problem would have developed."

"Other psychological problem?" Wolverine clenched his teeth. "How much room does she have on her psychological resumé after 'homicidal sociopath'?"

"A what?" Jubilee wasn't big on psychology.

"Antisocial Personality Disorder," Beast preferred the correct terminology. "Diagnosed when a person exhibits a lack of conscience for wrong-doing, even toward friends and family. And, I must remind you, Sasha is not the only member of the Brotherhood having been diagnosed with that particular disorder."

"Right," Logan said. "That list includes her hot-headed boyfriend as well as our ol' buddy Lance Alvers. Still reluctant to jump to conclusions, Jeanie?"

"Yes," the redhead replied. "If Sasha has contracted a form of amnesia, as I suspect, there may be a chance for reformation. I want to find her without enticing a destructive relapse back to her old mindset. Unless reformation doesn't mean anything to you, Wolverine."

The two glared at each other for a few moments until Wolverine gave in. "Alright Jeanie. Normally my policy for her is 'shoot first, as questions later', but I'll put that on the shelf until you've done some talkin' with Moira. But if any of them Brotherhood punks try anything funny..." he shot out his adamantium claws and ground them together for emphasis.

*

Cyclops, Gambit and Morph sat equally spaced around a high bar table in the familiar club. On stage Alyson Blair - AKA the Dazzler - performed her locally famous light show. Gambit grinned at his companions and raised his beer bottle.

"Dis is da kind of patrolling Gambit could get used to, _mes amis_," the Cajun stated.

"Yeah, just remember not to let Wolverine get wind of us having a good time and leaving him to the mercy of Jubilee's movie-pick night," Morph chuckled.

"Good call," Cyclops nodded, raising his beer bottle to Morph.

Morph raised his in return, but his face fell as he saw two familiar figures enter the club. "Don't look now," he said, "but we've got company."

Cyclops and Gambit turned to look over their shoulders and recognized Lance Alvers and Freddy Dukes, better known as Avalanche and Blob, stroll up to the bar. Obviously they'd had a few drinks before arriving.

"_Mon dieu_," Gambit muttered. "Dare's a couple faces Gambit was hoping he would not have to see for at least a while longer."

"I can't believe they would even _dare_ show their faces in here," Cyclops began to stand, but Morph put a hand on his arm.

"Just leave them alone, Cyke. We don't wanna start anything."

"Gambit will show dem how to start somet'ing if dey try any funny business," the Cajun muttered, pulling a handful of cards secretly from his pocket.

"Just give them the benefit of the doubt," Morph sat back. "They have as much right to be in here as anyone else."

Cyclops and Gambit gave him a funny look. "Did you hit your head this morning?" the team leader asked.

"No," Morph rolled his eyes. "Look, why can't we just relax? I mean, what are the chances that they're actually going to start any-"

"BACK OFF, JACKASS!" Avalanche's voice rang out from across the club and the three X-Men sprang to their feet. The rock tumbler was towering over a man sprawled on the floor, and Blob had two other men by the throats. The music had stopped, most of the club-goers had cleared the area, and Dazzler was watching from the stage.

"Pretty good chances, I'd say," Cyclops snapped and stomped across the room. "Can't help yourself, can you, _Alvers_?" he growled at his foe.

"Mind your own business, _Summers_," Avalanche growled back. "This punk started it."

"Good one, Alvers, but I'm not buying."

"Oh, it's _so_ easy to just blame me for everything, isn't it, Summers?" Avalanche hissed through clenched teeth. "Trouble's going down - must be Lance's fault. He'd never _want_ to actually be left alone. _No_, his night ain't complete without a good bar fight and a fucking black eye." It was then that Cyclops noticed for the first time that Lance was squinting through his left eye. "Well, this little shit and his buddies couldn't leave us alone and now they're getting what's coming to them."

"I'm really getting sick of having to break up your bar fights, Alvers-" Cyclops was still cynical, but was cut off by a feminine voice behind him.

"Hold it, Red, he's telling the truth," Dazzler said. "I saw it go down from the stage. That little creep just up and punched him. Lance was just defending himself."

"And what about him?" Cyclops pointed to Blob.

"Just watching his back," Blob sneered. "Gotta make sure we keep this one-on-one."

Cyclops was furious with himself for being wrong, and turned his head to catch the look in Morph's eyes that pleaded him to just apologize and walk away to end this right then and there. The team leader knew that he was right.

"I-I'm sorry, Lance," he said. "I guess I jumped to conclusions." He turned to go back to his table and Gambit, Morph and Dazzler turned to follow.

Unfortunately, Lance couldn't just leave it. He'd scored a win, and had to gloat. "Damn fucking right you did," he spat. "Y'know, I'm really sick of you always acting like you're so much better than me and my friends, Summers."

"Well, it's not like it would be out of character for you," Cyclops spat back. "We've been breaking up your bar fights for the past four months. Why the hell should I have thought tonight would have been any different?"

"We never denied starting them before, did we?" Avalanche smirked.

"I'm glad you're so proud of your accomplishments during this last little while which you _should_ have been spending on Muir Island with your teammate," Cyclops returned. "But I guess she just doesn't mean that much to you."

The smirk was wiped off Avalanche's face. "Leave her out of this."

"Hell, she could have died three months ago, but you'd never know," Scott kept it up, seeing that he'd struck a nerve. "Sure is heartwarming to see how much you value friendship."

"I'm _warning_ you..." Lance snarled, his fists clenching. The walls and floorboards began to quake. Everyone in the bar began to panic and fled the premises, except the three at the Brotherhood's mercy.

Cyclops felt a twinge in the back of his mind - Jean contacting him through their unique psychic link. She relayed all the information of the phone call from Moira and the conversation with the rest of the team. "Romanov-" he muttered.

"I _said_, leave her _out_ of this!" Lance exploded, ready to bring the place down.

"No! She's awake!" Cyclops tried to reason. "She's out of the coma! Jean just got the call from Muir Island."

The rumbling stopped, Lance's jaw dropped, and Blob's eyes went wide. Morph and Gambit turned with shocked expressions to their leader. Dukes released the two men and they helped their companion up and rushed from the now-deserted club. Lance cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles on his clenched fists. "What did you say?"

"She's awake, Lance," Morph repeated Cyclops's words. "She's alive."

Avalanche tried to order his thoughts. "If you're fucking with me, Summers, I swear-"

"I couldn't be more serious," Cyclops assured him. "Now get out before the police show up to investigate the mass desertion of the place."

Lance slapped Blob's shoulder and the two departed, clearly stunned from the sudden news. Cyclops turned to his teammates.

"Dis is bad, _oui_?" Gambit asked, unsure of the situation.

"Jean is uncertain of what to think," Cyclops said. "But if you're asking what I think, then yeah, it's bad. Especially now that those idiots know about it, but it was the only way I could think of to save this place from crashing down around us. Speaking of which," he turned to Dazzler, "sorry about the mess, Alyson."

"Ah, it's alright - could'a been worse," she shrugged, that familiar twinkle in her eyes. "You guys go do what you gotta; I'll take care of things here."

"Thanks," Cyclops smiled. "I owe you one."

"I might hold you to that, Red," she winked. "Just call me if you boys need any help."

****

To Be Continued.


	3. Fade to Black

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel's characters. I do own Sasha.

A/N: Oh wow, I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. I was really stuck with how to make it work just right, and then I started writing other things instead and, well! Sufficient to say, I finally got my priorities figured out and here is the somewhat short but still important third chapter! Enjoy!

The Memory Remains

Chapter 3

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Life it seems, will fade away

Drifting further every day

Getting lost within myself

Nothing matters, no one else.

I have lost the will to live

Simply nothing more to give

There is nothing more for me

Need the end to set me free.

---Metallica "Fade to Black"

----

Lance and Fred stumbled along the sidewalk, trying to shake off their alcohol-induced haze long enough to find the apartment block they were seeking. Finally they came to a large brick building that looked familiar and Lance climbed the concrete steps and buzzed the intercom. Soon a groggy voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Toad?"

"Lance? What the bloody hell are you doing here so late? Are you tanked again?"

"Yeah man, but wait, this is important," Lance said. "Me 'n Freddy, we found out something you should hear. Let us up, man."

"Bloody hell, Lance, I wanna sleep," Toad protested. "Ring me in the morning."

"No way, man," Avalanche argued. "You gotta hear this _now_, and besides your phone's still wired. Cops can't hear this."

"No, not a chance, Lance. I don't wanna get mixed up in any more bull-"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Toad, it's about Sasha!" Lance shouted.

There was a long silence, and Blob plopped down on the steps. "I think he died," he stated.

"I'm buzzing you in," Toad's voice came finally, and the buzzer went off and Lance opened the door. The two of them entered and carefully climbed two flights of stairs and traversed the hallway to the door which stood open with Toad standing in the frame. "What about her, Lance? This better be good."

*

Lance sat on Toad's worn sofa, pounded back a mug of black coffee and shook his head, slowly sobering up. Fred hadn't bothered trying and had passed out on the floor. Toad was leaning against the stained counter taking the opposite route of Lance and drank from a bottle of beer.

"How do we know ol' Cyke is telling the truth?" he asked.

"We don't," Lance shook his head. "But, c'mon, Morty, are you just gonna ignore it? This is Sasha we're talking about. What if it's true?"

"Have you told Johnny?"

"Naw, man, I was kinda hoping you would help me tell him. I haven't even talked to him a whole lot since then. Christ, and I'm supposed to be his best friend."

"Yeah," Toad mumbled to himself and took another long swig. "I've been over a couple of times. His flat is a shambles, and he's been...well, I don't think he's been sleeping. I don't know how to help him."

"Shit," Lance groaned. He got up and walked over to the phone on the counter next to Toad, picked up the receiver and dialed Pyro's number. After a couple moments, he hung up. "No answer."

"Not surprising," Toad shook his head. "He practically never gets up off the couch except to take a piss or grab something from the fridge."

It took Lance about two seconds to make up his mind. "Let's go. I'll tell him face-to-face. I can't take this anymore - I kinda miss the weirdo." He turned to look at Blob. "What should we do with Freddy?"

"Let him crash here, mate," Toad shrugged. "We gotta get there quick. You know the X-Men will be making plans to track her down and we wanna try to keep up."

* * *

The lights were out and the apartment of the mutant known as Pyro was silent save for the quiet sounds from the softly glowing television. The slender blond man was sprawled on the old sofa, eyes half open, only paying a minimal amount of attention to the TV program. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept; lately he'd just crashed for an hour or two on the couch. He hadn't slept in the bedroom in four months - in the bed he'd shared with Sasha.

The bedroom was a mess anyway. He'd come home that night after returning from Muir Island and trashed the apartment. Later he'd cleaned up the main room and kitchen but left the bedroom as it was; he didn't plan on going in there any time soon.

He frowned in frustration, hating the way his mind kept drifting back in that direction. _Why haven't I been sleeping? **Because I crash on the couch**. Why don't I go to bed? **Because **_she**_ slept there too. I can't sleep there without her_**.

The pain in his stomach threatened to overwhelm his emotions and he turned his focus to the television to keep his mind from certain topics. Somehow he'd let the fact that "I Love Lucy" was now on slip by him, and disgustedly changed the channel, landing on an old episode of "Friends". He watched about two seconds of Ross and Rachel mush before angrily changing the channel again. Before he could focus on what he'd changed it to, the phone rang, startling him enough to make him sit up.

"Aw, Crikey," he grumbled at the instant head rush and dropped his head into his hands. He didn't bother answering the phone - it would stop ringing eventually; it always did. He waited until the silence returned to his apartment again before forcing himself to his feet and stumbling toward the bathroom, unbuckling the belt on his jeans along the way.

With that bit of business taken care of, Pyro wandered into the vicinity of the kitchen and over to the refrigerator, and discovered upon opening it that he was nearly out of anything remotely edible. He grabbed the last can of Coke and an old wrinkled apple, then shut the door and plopped back down on the couch to see what was now on the TV.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves - on the movie channel. _Finally_, he thought, _something with a little action_. Unfortunately at the moment the movie was at the part where Robin sends Marian back to town across the river and there's a little sappy exchange between the two of them. Pyro lasted just long enough to hear Marian deliver the "I'll do it for you" line before turning the TV off completely. He then sat in the dark munching on his apple and stewing in his frustrations.

Pyro frowned as his jaw popped when he took a bite of the fruit. Lying on the couch all day had caused it to lock and thus made eating a rather difficult procedure. The blond Aussie realized it would be a much easier task were he able to cut up the apple into smaller bits, but that was not a possibility - not since Toad had removed all the knives and other sharp objects from his apartment. That was a few months ago, when the depression hit worse than it ever had, and Pyro had taken a razor blade and sliced his wrist open from the palm of his left hand to his mid-forearm. Luckily, Toad had been on his way over and found him bleeding to death in the bathroom sink and was able to call an ambulance.

The Aussie traced the long ugly scar down his wrist with his finger and sighed. He couldn't decide whether he was grateful for Toad's impeccable timing, or if he wished he'd succeeded that night. Either way, he hadn't had the guts to go for another suicide attempt, but Toad had taken no chances.

Pyro glanced at the clock on the counter which was flashing 12:00, and he remembered that he hadn't bothered to reset it last time there had been a power outage and so he now had no idea what time it was. That never used to matter. He could remember staying up all night with Sasha, the two of them talking for hours about whatever came to mind after passionate love-making. Everything about that woman was passionate; everything she did she always put everything she had into doing it.

His stomach tightened again and he moved his hand to his abdomen. In doing so he felt an older set of scars - the reminders of the long gashes on his belly from his encounter with Sabretooth - an encounter Sasha had saved him from. If she hadn't shown up, he would be dead now.

He surveyed the apartment for a moment then leaned back and closed his eyes. Sasha had been his foundation, his reason to keep living and the only true love he'd even known. He silently wondered if he could really survive without her. After four months he still could never go five minutes without thinking about her. He was completely unable to even attempt to get back to a somewhat normal life, and too depressed to try. The only time he ever showed his face in public was to get the few groceries with the money he borrowed from Toad when he came over. He hadn't even spoken to Lance - his best friend - since they got back from Muir Island.

His eyes snapped open as the buzzer sounded on the intercom by the door. He wondered briefly how long he'd been sitting in the dark before closing his eyes again in hopes that it was just kids downstairs playing a prank. Apparently this was not so as the buzzer went off again and a voice he hadn't heard in months rang through the darkness.

"Johnny? It's Lance."

Pyro stared at the intercom, unsure of what to do. He was too tired to think straight and thought maybe he'd imagined the name.

"Dude, I know we haven't spoken in a while and I'm sorry but c'mon man just get off the couch I really, really need to talk to you. Trust me - it's important."

Pyro blinked hard, convinced that he must have dozed off and was now dreaming.

*

Lance impatiently clenched his fists and the ground began to shake lightly. Toad cast a disbelieving look in his direction. "So you're gonna bring down the building on top of your best friend because he doesn't answer right away? Jesus, Lance, you really are an idiot, aren't you? You have no idea how hard he took it!" Toad pushed the stunned rock tumbler aside and pushed the intercom button. "Pyro. It's Toad. I swear, it's long overdue good news we're bringing."

Avalanche ran his slender fingers through his shaggy dark brown hair and frowned. He didn't like being shot down and called names by his friends - or anyone for that matter - and especially didn't like not being able to think of a comeback. Most of all he didn't like to admit that Toad was right. But the fact was clear - he was. And now he was curious as to what Toad had meant; just how hard _did_ Pyro take it?

_Only one way to find out_, he decided. "Um, Toad? How _did_ he take it?"

"Ask him yourself for a change," Toad spat.

_TWO ways to find out, then_, Avalanche corrected himself, and took a deep breath as the buzzer finally allowed the two access into the apartment block.

*

Avalanche leaned against the wall in Pyro's apartment with his arms crossed and his teeth clenched, listening to Toad talk to the flame-throwing mutant. The Aussie was staring blankly at Toad, completely disbelieving every word that came out of his mouth. And that was pissing Lance off more and more by the minute.

"Our time's running out - we have to find her before the X-Men do," Toad said.

"Even if it's true, we wouldn't stand a chance," Pyro replied and slouched back on the couch. "So what's the point?"

"The point, dumbass, is that Sasha's out there, _by herself_, with the X-Men after her," Avalanche exploded. "The point, in case what Grey said on Muir didn't get through your thick skull, is that she's got on hell of a fucked up brain with nobody to clue her in. The point is that we've all been through hell and back since she got taken out and we _need_ her back. The _point_ is that we owe her a lot, and if you care about her even a _fraction_ of what she cares about you, you would help us find her even if we didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of beating the X-Jerks to it!"

As Lance chewed him out, Pyro felt his stomach tighten in disgust of his apathetic reaction to the news of Sasha's awakening. In truth, he had nearly smiled when they had first told him, but the depression that had long since convinced him that he'd lost her forever had urged him not to get his hopes up - that it couldn't be true. Now he hung his head with the shame of so readily forsaking his lover. Avalanche interpreted the reaction the wrong way.

"Fine, be like that," he spat. "I appreciate you leaving the job to me and Morty to break her heart, Johnny, I really do."

Avalanche angrily stomped to the door and Toad followed with a look of mixed disappointment and repulsion on his face.

"Guys?"

They turned around, unsure of what he would say.

"Let's bring her home."

****

To Be Continued...


	4. Sad But True

Disclaimer: same as the last ones

A/N: Wow, did this ever take longer than intended to get up. Long story made short - the Mother of All Writer's Blocks attacked without mercy and strapped me to the Electric Chair of Un-Creativeness. Then the great hero Brainwave rescued me and exploded my mind with the complete layout of this chapter and the rest of the story. Victory was ours! Special thanks to Shadowfax for loving this fic so much (you are the mighty Inspiration) and to Bonnie-Frootkake Productions-for that wide grin on her face when I told her I'd written in this one again (you are the illustrious Motivation). Enjoy!

The Memory Remains

Chapter 4

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__

I'm your dream, make it real

I'm your eyes when you must steal

I'm your pain when you can't feel

Sad but true.

I'm your truth, telling lies

I'm your reason, alibis

I'm inside, open your eyes

I'm you

---Metallica "Sad But True"

----

The night was still young when Cyclops, Gambit and Morph returned to the mansion and quickly made their way to the War Room where Jean, Beast, Wolverine, Storm and Jubilee were already gathered. On the large screen was a thoughtful-looking President Kelly.

"Sorry we're late, Mr. President," Cyclops apologized as he took his seat.

"Quite alright, Mr. Summers," Kelly said. "Jean was just updating me on our situation." He turned back to her. "Please continue, Ms. Grey."

"Well, sir, even though Velocity is no longer in a coma, Dr. MacTaggart is certain that her premature awakening will have unpredictable side-affects. Sasha's mind is unstable and we aren't yet sure of her motives."

"Could she be a threat?"

"It is possible, but-"

"Try probable," Wolverine scoffed.

"-we really cannot be certain," Jean ignored him.

Kelly steepled his fingers and touched them to his lips as he thought. "In consideration of the recent calming of mutant riots, I am hesitant to again alarm the public with a resurfaced terrorist. I am also tentative to involve the CIA due to a recent rumour of an FOH informant stationed in the White House. The last thing we need is for the Friends of Humanity to catch wind of this." Kelly paused to collect his thoughts. "You X-Men have been key factors in stopping the riots, and you know Velocity much better than I do. Can you suggest a COA?"

"We have several ways to track her down," Jean replied. "Given the right circumstances she _has_ proven to be reasonable. And if the situation does turn hostile, we know how to bring her down."

"Then it's settled," Kelly said. "I'm sending your team again as a Black Ops squadron. Mission parametres are left up to your judgement; you X-Men have complete control."

"We won't let you down, Mr. President," Cyclops assured him.

"I have no doubt about that," Kelly smiled. All of the X-Men left the room save for Jean. "Was there something else you wanted to discuss, Ms. Grey?"

"Something _has_ been on my mind, President Kelly," Jean admitted. "In another two months, Henry Girich will be out of prison. I attended his trial, and the court never took into account his crimes against mutants or his illegal conspiring to construct the Sentinels after the Mutant Registration Program was discontinued. And it was the same at his trial for his attack on the Professor: all public mischief, vandalism and minor assault charges."

"I understand what you're saying, Jean, and it is disgraceful," said Kelly. "Corruption of the Department of Justice is hard to pinpoint, and no matter how hard I push for equal rights for humans and mutants, there are still those who fear and hate mutantkind. And so long as these mutant terrorists thirst to start a war, people don't have much reason to believe otherwise."

"I just wish I knew that everything we're fighting for isn't in vain."

* * *

Velocity stepped off the ferry and onto the Scottish mainland. It had taken them longer than expected to cross the rough waters and William had been grumbling about being far too late for dinner. The rain had stopped but the wind was still vicious. The weather and hunger had turned the Scot's mood sour and he'd sent Mickey off, saying he could dock and finish up by himself. Mickey had no complaints.

"Whar y'off to then?" Mickey caught up to Sasha, deciding it was too early to head home.

Sasha frowned; she had enough annoyances complicating her life without the boy following her around. "Russia," she conceded and felt a mental smirk - the Voice pleased she was doing as she was told.

Mickey seemed almost surprised by this answer, as if he were expecting another, but he quickly composed himself and casually lit another cigarette. "No' exac'ly a day trip," he mused. "Wha y'goin' thar far, if ye don' min' me askin'?"

_Nosy beggar, isn't he?_

Sasha rolled her eyes at both of them. "I'm going home." Mickey chuckled. "What's funny?"

"Eh, nuttin much. Jus' I r'member y'sayin' sommet 'bout bein' from N'York."

Velocity turned on him, her eyes burning with anger and impatience. "Let me give you some valuable advice: stay _out_ of my business," she said slowly and plainly, then walked away.

Mickey smirked as he watched her go, calmly smoking his cigarette.

*

Two people watched with great interest as Velocity walked along the pier away from the ferry after confronting the young man. One was a tall man with strong, broad shoulders and a rock-hard physique. His face was one that was hard and cold and his mouth was set in a grim, tight-lipped scowl. His white hair was neatly chopped in a crew cut and framed with a red bandana. His right eye was a deep blue and conveyed years of hardship and experience; the left was that of a machine and the result of that hardship and experience. His left arm - another mechanical appendage - was held out in front of him as he watched the built-in computer read a positive ID on the Russian terrorist. In his right hand was an enormous futuristic energy weapon. He was one of those, all-business-no-nonsense types; no sense of humour whatsoever.

"It's her," he said in a gruff voice. "You were right about her location."

The other was a woman with short black hair cropped close to her head. At the back the ends of her hair flared out and her long bangs hung in her face around her blue eyes, the left of which was encircled by a black dot - a tattoo with origins unknown even to her. Her pale skin was eerily bright in the moonlight and her figure was slight with a delicate bone structure - a misleading exterior that did nothing to represent the lethal weapon that she was. She took her job seriously but without sacrificing her wit. Her sense of humour was dry - the Mulder to his Scully. One corner of her mouth raised into a smirk.

"Lucky guess," she replied.

The two were Cable and Domino: vigilante terrorist hunters and mutants. The former was a physically enhanced telekinetic and telepath; the latter, a probability-altering psionic with luck as her most trusted ally. Both had zero tolerance for terrorist threats or anything else with the possibility of starting the war between man and mutant. They were soldiers; they were mercenaries; they made their own rules.

"Four months she's kept a low profile," Cable watched Velocity. "We might have found her sooner if the X-Men hadn't gotten involved."

"Kelly's favourites," Domino mused. "Too bad he doesn't like mercs."

"We're out of his jurisdiction here," Cable replied. "We don't have to answer to him." Velocity was far enough away now that they could follow without arousing suspicion and he shouldered his weapon. "Move out."

Domino watched the woman's figure grow smaller and smaller as she moved farther away. She had a fleeting moment of doubt during which a tiny part of her urged she forget what she'd just seen and walk away. The thought caught her off guard and she halted.

"Something wrong?" Cable asked without turning around.

Domino snapped back into reality at the sound of his voice. "No," she said hurriedly. "I'm right behind you."

*

Sasha took in her surroundings: the town was a simple fishing village. The streets weren't even paved and the mud squished between her already dirty toes. The windows of the houses were dark, save for a few which were still illuminated by the glowing hearth within. She watched the flickering flames with great interest as her fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around the lighter she'd gotten from Mickey. For a moment, her thoughts of the fire-tossing Aussie chased away the cold that nipped at her barely-clothed body.

_You're thinking of him?_ Sasha closed her eyes and didn't answer, irritated that the moment had been interrupted and she could feel the wind again. _This is unexpected_.

"Why? Am I not supposed to remember the one I love?" Sasha snapped.

_I didn't know you cared about anyone but yourself_, the other replied. _But your memories are beginning to return. One thing I never expected to find in your head was honest love, that's for sure. There's hope for you yet, girlfriend._

Sasha narrowed her eyes. "That's enough. I have had it with your assessments of me and I think you had better get out of my mind and leave me the hell alone. I _really_ do not want to go back to Russia and there are better hobbies you could take up rather than pissing me off."

_Perhaps you weren't paying attention before: I'm not going anywhere. I've got a job to do and you're not getting out of this_, there was anger in the Voice now. _Besides, it isn't exactly as though I have a choice_.

"What do you mean?"

There was an impression of severe irritation and then the voice spoke again. _Is it really so important that you know my life story?_

"I did not ask for your life story - only the part which concerns me."

_Then you've really got to think back. This isn't going to be easy_.

*

Rogue awakened suddenly from her slumber at the monastery window and gasped for breath. Her nightmares had unexpectedly and drastically changed from what she'd come to expect over the last four months. Instead of reliving Times Square and the destruction of Velocity's psyche, she had seen her sister very much awake. The pain and anguish of the previous dreams was gone, but Rogue had still felt looming trouble and another presence that she could not see.

Rogue wiped her forehead and found that she was sweating. She shut her eyes again and frowned; it had been so realistic that it was frightening. She was no psionic, but just as the old dreams were an impression of the past, Rogue somehow knew that this dream was an impression of the present. _She's awake; Sasha's awake_, Rogue could barely believe what she had unmistakably felt. _But how is that possible? How can Ah know that? _she wondered.

She stood and flew out the door and through the monastery to the enormous sanctuary where she took a seat in the front pew. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the large wooden crucifix as if she expected it to somehow offer an explanation on her revelation. Rogue frowned, realizing that she couldn't receive an answer without asking a question. But the question wasn't whether Sasha really was awake - that Rogue knew to be true. The question was, "Wuht's mah role? Whah was Ah shown this? Wuht am Ah s'posed tah do 'bout this?"

She was concentrating so hard she did not notice the other in the room until a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped. "Nahtcrawler!" she sighed. "Ya scared me, Sugah. Next tahm warn a gal before ya go sneakin' up behind her."

"My apologies, Fraulien," Nightcrawler smiled. "But I zaw you come een, und you looked like you needed zomeone to talk to."

"Ya sure got mah numbah," Rogue nodded.

"Tell me, zister, what iz on your mind?"

"It's Sasha."

"Do you ztill punish yourself over our zister's fate?" he asked. "Before you can accept God's forgiveness, you must learn to forgive yourself."

"It ain't that, Kurt," Rogue shook her head. "She's awake. Ah cayn't explain how Ah know but Ah do. And Ah dunno wuht ta do."

Nightcrawler sat down beside her. "God works his power in mysterious ways. Perhaps zis is ze chance you longed for but never had to zpeak with her?"

Rogue turned to look at her blue-furred brother. "But wuht if she's pickin' up where she left off?"

The preacher folded his hands. "You zink she cannot change?"

"Ah dunno - that's whah Ah'm in here," she gestured around the room.

A moment of silence passed before Nightcrawler spoke again. "You came here zo that I might teach you to find peace, yes?" Rogue nodded. "I zink you will not find peace until you find the strength to forgive our zister. Ze book of God teaches us zat 'if your brother zins, rebuke him; und if he repents, forgive him. Und if he zins against you zeven times a day, und returns to you zeven times, zaying _I repent_, forgive him'."

"But she ain't nevah repented for wuht she's done," Rogue shook her head.

"Have you given her ze chance?"

Rogue remained silent and Nightcrawler picked up a worn Bible from the pew and flipped through it, then set it down open next to her then stood up. He slowly made his way to the many rows of flickering candles and lit one with a prayer on his lips for his beautiful Southern sister Rogue.

She picked up the book and found it opened to the book of Acts which told the story of Saul, the man who mercilessly persecuted and murdered innocent people for their beliefs until he saw the light of God. He was given a chance and repented for his sins, and became the apostle Paul to spread the light to amend the wrongs he committed.

"Kurt?" Rogue closed the book. Nightcrawler turned to look at her. "Ah'm goin' ta find Sasha. Ah gotta talk ta her b'fore she does somethin' stupid." She turned and flew out of the large oaken double doors and out of the monastery.

Kurt smiled after her. "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful."

*

Sasha winced and clutched at the sides of her head as the memories began to flood her mind and she felt the pain of what they brought with them. She remembered the blast from Girich's machine in Times Square just as Rogue touched her, and then having to fight with Ms. Marvel over control of her body and mind. She remembered how Jean Grey told her to lose, and then Ms. Marvel's subsequent re-incarnation as she lay helpless and beaten in the deep recesses of her subconscious. They hurt. Dreadfully.

"How could you still be here?" she demanded, though her voice was full of anguish. "Rogue took you back; Jean told me it worked; you shouldn't be here!"

_So they made a mistake. What are you gonna do: sue them?_

"But how is it possible?"

_Who cares? This just _is_. Chances are there's an explanation out there but that doesn't interest me. Besides, it's no worry for you. It's not like I can manifest over you again._

"How do you know that?"

_Don't you think I would have done it by now?_ Sasha narrowed her eyes at the suggestion of her mental weakness. _Get used to it; I used to make a living by taking out scum like you. I never considered that any of you might have a heart, so forgive me if my first attempt at being a conscience is a wee bit unorthodox._

"Being a what?"

_You aren't exactly proving the weak-minded label wrong, sweetie. You, me - inseparable, get it? You're me and I'm you. I'm the Jimminy Cricket to your Pinocchio, so how 'bout we keep this real simple and you just 'let your conscience be your guide'?_

"Spare me the quotable quotes," Sasha rolled her eyes. She began to walk again, eyes locked on the flickering glows of the fireplaces, mentally replaying the resurfaced memories as she repeatedly flicked the flint wheel on the tiny lighter. A bird cawed loudly overhead, snapping her back to reality. She began to shiver as she quickened her pace.

_S'matter? Getting cold feet?_

"I don't remember you being funny," Sasha shot back.

_Yeah, well, what can I say? I've had a change of heart - or, more specifically a change of head. And God knows I've got to have a sense of humour in this depressing place._

"Thanks a lot," Sasha wrapped her arms tightly around her chest.

_I'll give credit where it's due, though. At least you don't lock me away and forget me like your sister._

"Leave her out of this." She had stopped walking and her tone had gone deathly serious.

_'Fraid that's not possible, darlin'. I can tell you right now she's more involved than I would like._

"How involved? How do you know this - and do _not_ tell me it is not important."

_Fine, it's important, but it's also complicated, and I'm not the most qualified to interpret the psycho-analytical mumbo-jumbo. Plus, I don't have the time to explain. The X-Men already have undoubtedly been alerted to your situation. We've got to go._

"Why do you want to avoid them? Wouldn't they make you proud to put away scum like me?"

_Don't get smart, honey, I don't like to be proven wrong. No, no, you're my project and I'm not failing this course without a fight._

"And what do you get out of this?"

_Quid-pro-quo, Ms. Romanov._ Sasha snarled under her breath. _Couldn't help myself. Deal is: I help you get back what you've lost and you help me find a way to get back into my body._

"No offense, but the though had crossed my mind," Sasha sneered.

_Top on your list of things to do, I'm sure,_ Ms. Marvel was anything but without comebacks. _Good to know we're on the same page._

"What makes you think it's even possible?" the speedstress was suddenly curious. And stalling.

_Because I am here; obviously my entity can be transferred from vessel to vessel._

"Is that all I am to you?" Sasha asked with sarcastic hurt in her voice. No reply. "And just what, pray tell, do you presume I have lost? I have my memories back now."

_Then obviously that isn't it. Enough talking; we've got to go. You'll need warm clothes. All these houses combined with your speed..._

"Shouldn't be a problem," Velocity finished for her and was in and out of the houses without the occupants ever suspecting they'd had a visitor. She wasn't concerned with Cerebro's certain detection of the use of her mutant powers since she'd already concluded they were on the move. All that would reveal was that she'd moved from Muir Island to mainland Scotland.

Newly clothed, she was ready to continue her quest.

****

To Be Continued.


	5. Master of Puppets

Disclaimer - the usual

A/N - Boo-ya! I think this qualifies as my fastest posting ever. *bows* Everyone who's wondering where the next chapter for Crossed Paths is…yeah…um…the X-Men bug bit me and this is all I can write lately. Soon! Soon I promise! But okay, I'll shush, on with the show!

The Memory Remains

Chapter 5

----

__

Master of Puppets I'm pulling your strings

Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams.

Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream.

--- Metallica "Master of Puppets"

----

"Just give me a moment," Jean called over her shoulder. "I'll reconfigure Cerebro to specifically target Sasha's unique mutant signature. If she uses her powers, we'll have her location." The red-head typed a few more commands into the Institute's computer. "Finished."

"Mutant signature identified. Name: Sasha Romanov. Code name: Velocity. Location: coast of Scotland, approximately forty miles west of Glasgow."

"Incoming transmission. Source: Department H. Location: Northern Alberta."

The response was instantaneous, and Cerebro continued speaking over himself, relaying the information of the two transmissions arriving at the same time, resulting in a garbled jumble of words adding to the already hectic atmosphere inside the Institute. Cyclops tried to get Cerebro to separate the messages but Wolverine's acute hearing picked up the most important part: Department H.

"Alpha Flight," he snarled under his breath. "What the hell do they want?"

"Hold on, Wolverine," Cyclops realized what he was upset about. "They could have important information for us."

"I don't care!" Wolverine spat and marched over to the screen, then pounded his fist on the panel. The screen flickered on, revealing an image of a young woman with wire-framed glasses. She wore a lab coat with a nametag across the left breast pocket: Hudson.

"Wolverine-" she began, pushing a strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear.

"Heather!" Wolverine snapped, cutting her off. "I warned you what would happen if any of you tried to contact me again! 'S'matter? Your memory failing you?"

"No, Wolverine, we remembered," Heather sighed, her eyes showing signs of stress. "We didn't forget one word you said to us, but we thought even this would be important enough to put all that aside for a moment."

"What could-"

Before he could finish, Heather held up a small hologram projector and switched it on. An image of a very familiar snarling, savage mutant appeared, and he was apparently restrained.

"Sabretooth," Wolverine muttered.

"We have him," Heather switched the projector off. "And don't worry, James doesn't have anything to do with this. Important enough?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

Heather's image disappeared and Wolverine turned back to the team. "I gotta go."

"Take Morph with you, Wolverine," Cyclops ordered. "Somehow I doubt that it's coincidence that Sabretooth resurfaces the same night Velocity wakes up. I wouldn't be surprised if Mystique's lurking around, too."

"Good call," the Canuck nodded. "Okay, we'll check in if we find anythin' interesting." He and Morph turned to go.

"Oh, can I go too?" Jubilee asked hopefully. "Please Cyclops, please Wolverine?"

The two men exchanged a nod. "Sure, Jubilee. You've earned a real mission."

"Excellent!" Jubilee cried gleefully and hurried to catch up with Morph. They went on ahead and Wolverine held back a moment as Cyclops approached.

"Take care of her," he lowered his voice.

"No problem," Wolverine nodded, then left the room.

"The rest of us will take the Blackbird to Muir Island," Cyclops turned back to the team. "Jean and Beast will stay with Moira to help with Kevin. See if there's any way to get into contact with Rogue; she'll want to know about this. Jean, try also to isolate Velocity's brainwave patterns from machinery in her room at the Research Centre. Maybe we can find a clue as to where she's going.

"Since Cerebro's just confirmed that she's already on the mainland, Gambit, Storm and I will go on ahead to Glasgow. She'll probably head for the nearest city to avoid detection, and we'll be waiting for her. Let's move."

*

Mickey hadn't batted an eye when he saw Velocity use her powers. In fact, the corners of his mouth curled upward into a smug smile and he lit another cigarette. He turned and started suddenly at the man whom he discovered had been standing silently behind him.

"I tol' ye no' t'do tha'," he snapped.

"And I specifically told you not to get too attached," the man replied. His metallic-sounding voice resonated in the still, near-dawn air.

"Y'ask too much," Mickey turned away from the man.

"Do I? I seem to recall asking only for that which is due to me. You owe me a debt in return for a substantial favour, or have you forgotten?"

Mickey took a long drag on his cigarette then whirled around and stabbed the burning end into the man's arm. As he did so, his appearance changed: tanned skin became pale blue, dark brown hair became deep red, bright blue eyes to ghostly white, muscular physique changed to the curves of a woman. "I never forget _anything_."

The man didn't even flinch, and watched as his techno-organic skin instantly healed the burn on his arm. He turned hollow eyes on her. "Then do as you are told, Mystique. I gave you information to reclaim one daughter, now I need the other one. Need I remind you that it is not only me who orders this?"

Mystique took one last puff and then dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her boot. "She isn't going to New York," she sighed.

"What?"

"She's going back to Russia. Why? I don't know, but that's what she told me. She was acting very strangely. Something's happened that even you did not count on."

"I always have a plan for a change of plans," he reminded her. "There is nothing to worry about."

"I'll find out-"

"I _don't_ want you following her. You know what you are to do. After that, your job is done. You will have nothing more to do with her."

"She is my _daughter_."

"She is no longer your concern," the man stressed. "Do you understand?"

The dull glow of the impending dawn softly illuminated the man's frightening features as he leaned closer to Mystique's face: his skin was eerily pale and his teeth were jagged and sharp. His hair was a neat black crew cut and his eyes, like hers, were without pupils.

Mystique remained stone-faced as she shifted back to Mickey's appearance. "I get ye." Brown eyes burned with hatred as Mystique turned and walked away. The man watched until she was out of sight.

"Ruckus, its Essex," he spoke into a communicator in his ear. "Move to plan B. Mystique may now be a liability. We _must_ ensure our success."

"Loud an' clear, Boss," Ruckus replied through the comm.

"Excellent," Nathaniel Essex, known to most as Mr. Sinister, grinned maliciously, eyeing the building behind which he knew Cable and Domino hid.

*

Pyro, Avalanche and Toad walked quickly back to Toad's apartment to retrieve Blob from his drunken slumber. There were still several hours until dawn but the Brotherhood still had no idea how to get across the Atlantic and locate Sasha before the X-Men could do the same.

"'Allo, gents, lovely night, in't it?"

The three of them snapped into instant battle stance and turned around to face the voice, but were met only with the deserted street.

"Oh, got to be a mite quicker than that, lads."

The voice was now where they had just looked away from, but again there was nobody when they turned back.

"This is getting old real fast," Toad muttered, his eyes darting around the street in search of any movement to betray their mysterious caller.

"I heard that one," Avalanche growled, his top lip curling into a sneer. He closed his eyes, listening for even the tiniest sound. A pebble bounced to his left and without hesitating he slammed his foot into the concrete and sent a shockwave in that direction, tearing up pavement as it went.

"Random acts of destruction! I like your style, Lancey-Boy. Too bad you can't aim."

"Where are you?!" Avalanche exploded. A steady rumble began and the asphalt pieces clattered against the street.

"Woo! Look at the fire in this one, Gorgeous!"

"You want fire?" Pyro narrowed his eyes. "You got it!" An audible click sounded and from underneath Pyro's trenchcoat the flame-thrower came to life. The Aussie released his mutant power at full force and manipulated the fire until it had grown into a monstrous flaming dragon. The creature lit up the street as bright as day and revealed that which had previously been hidden in shadow: a dark gooey purple form clinging to the ledge of a third story window.

"Oh-ho, so the whelp has bite afterall. Might actually be something legit to the Boss's theory."

The purple mass untangled itself, revealing the two figures it had been concealing and taking form itself. The Brotherhood stared at the two men and one woman perched on the window ledge.

"If you won't shut him up, Pyro," Avalanche said, "I'm gonna."

"This one's all mine," Pyro replied. The dragon took a step toward the building and moved its head so it was within yards of the trio, its burning eyes seeming to stare straight through them.

"Whew, is it just me, Ruckus, or is it getting hot out here?" the man made of the purple goo grinned.

"Allow me, Gorgeous," the other man with bright pink hair and a long purple overcoat replied. Then he screamed.

The Brotherhood boys had never heard a more horrible sound. All three cringed and covered their ears as the force of the sonic waves of his scream blew back and evaporated the fiery creature. He stopped screaming.

Avalanche clenched his fist and the tremors began again as he prepared to bring the entire building down on top of the antagonists.

"Down boy," the woman with long, platinum blonde hair said as she raised her hand, and suddenly he along with Pyro and Toad could hear nothing but a high-pitched resonating in their heads. Their skulls felt as though they would explode and they dropped to their knees in agony.

Toad opened his eyes and clenched his teeth as he forced himself to focus. He could swear he recognized their attackers from somewhere and the names sounded so familiar. The answer was on the tip of his tongue.

The woman saw him fighting her power and she increased the intensity of her attack. Their heads throbbed and their stomachs churned. Avalanche's alcohol-filled gut submitted to the pressure and he vomited all over the sidewalk.

"Vertigo is never a fun-time experience," the man called Ruckus smirked as the trio descended to the street. "But that's what happens when you play with the big boys."

"Or, should we say, the Nasty Boys," Gorgeous George added.

"Nasty Boys," Toad squeaked. "I remember now. You're Sinister's gang."

"Oh, now have a little respect, mate," Ruckus feigned hurt. "We do have names. You wouldn't like it if we addressed you as Mystique's gang."

"Especially since she betrayed them, or did I hear that rumour correctly?" Vertigo smirked.

"Hey, now, Vertigo, don't kick a man when he's down," Gorgeous laughed.

"What do you want?" Pyro screamed over the pounding in his head.

"Glad you asked!" Ruckus grinned, motioning for Vertigo to stop. "We're actually here to help you boys out and give you a nudge in the right direction, so to speak."

Avalanche was on his feet as soon as Vertigo had released them from her power, and he grabbed Ruckus by the collar of his overcoat and pushed him against the wall of the building. "Talk fast!" he ordered.

Gorgeous and Vertigo made a move toward Avalanche, but Ruckus calmly raised his hands, keeping them back but on guard. "We just happen to have information on the whereabouts of the delectable Ms. Sasha Romanov."

Pyro was now on his feet and he threw Avalanche off of Ruckus and then took his place and slammed the Nasty Boy against the wall. "_Where is she_?"

"Would you get a load of this little cracker?" Ruckus laughed. "Didn't think you had any spark left these days. 'Ow good it is t'be wrong."

"_Now_!" Pyro screamed, applying pressure to Ruckus's throat, blocking him from using his mutant power.

"Either you get him off, or we do," Vertigo told Toad, her voice still calm. "Only one way ends with him still breathing."

"Johnny, back off!" Toad yelled, motioning for Avalanche to help him. The two grabbed hold of Pyro and yanked the Aussie off his victim.

"Now, that was uncalled for," Ruckus massaged his throat. "We're bringing helpful information, not delivering a ransom note. What do you think, Gorgeous?"

"There's just no trust among mutant gangs anymore," the purple man shook his head. "The Morlocks don't come out to play, and Heaven knows the Hellfire Club isn't up for a friendly game of chess."

"And let's not even mention the mutates of the Savage Lands," Vertigo smirked.

"And now even _Mystique's gang_ has it in for us," Ruckus's eyes twinkled. "Oh, what a world we live in. Well, I know when I'm not wanted. Perhaps we'll just be off." They turned to leave.

"You're not going anywhere," Toad folded his arms. "You have information on Sasha, and I'm guessing it doesn't come for free. What do we have to do?"

All three turned around. "Smart lad," Ruckus pointed at Toad. "As a matter of fact there _is_ a little job for you boys. It's like this: your old boss isn't doing as she's told and we think she's tailing Sparky's sweetheart. Chances are it's to get her back on her team, and we just can't have that. Deal goes: we zip you three overseas, giving you a head start on the X-Men, and all you have to do is keep Mystique away from the lovely Velocity."

"No problem," Avalanche said, anxious to get back at Mystique for her betrayal.

"Hold it," Toad said. "Blob's still asleep back at my place. We've got to get him first."

"No time," Vertigo shook her head. "The X-Men are already on the move."

"Besides, we dropping in there first looking for you," Gorgeous grinned. "Let's just say it didn't look like he'd be ready to wake up anytime soon."

"It's now or never, mates," Ruckus folded his arms.

"We'll do it," Pyro nodded.

"Fantastic," Ruckus smiled.

****

To Be Continued…


	6. I Disappear

Disclaimer - Nothing's changed since the last five chapters, y'all

A/N - Alright, alright! This one turned out nicely. Now I've just got to wait and see if it made any sense whatsoever ^_^ Enjoy!

The Memory Remains

Chapter 6

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__

Do you bury when I'm gone

Do you teach me while I'm here

Just as soon as I belong

Then it's time I disappear.

---Metallica "I Disappear"

----

Alyson Blair sighed as she locked up the club and began her walk home. It had taken her nearly the entire night to clean up and deal with the police after the Brotherhood's bar fight and what she really wanted right now was a long, hot soak in the bathtub with a good book.

She was not going to get it.

As she rounded the corner she saw six figures gathered outside an alley. Assuming a street fight was in progress, she ducked out of sight again and hoped she hadn't been noticed.

"Guess I'm taking the long way home," she sighed again, but there was a nagging thought in the back of her mind and she took one last peek around the corner. Her suspicions were confirmed when she recognized one of the group: a well-built, younger man with cautious, brooding eyes.

"Alvers," she muttered and rolled her eyes at the man who had been in the club earlier that night. "Is it really so hard for you to stay out of trouble?"

Now that she had identified one, the two flanking Avalanche became recognizable: Mortimer Toynbee and Johnny Allerdyce - though they hadn't been to her bar _nearly_ as often as Lance. As for the other three characters, Alyson wasn't sure who they were. The way the two men were dressed reminded her of the goons who'd caused trouble in the bar years ago - the Hellfire Club or something like that. The woman, on the other hand, looked like she'd stepped right out of a sixties swinger flick.

Since those three didn't really interest her, Alyson turned her attention back to the Brotherhood. She knew very little about Toynbee, but Allerdyce used to be a regular at the club along with Lance and Fred Dukes. She hadn't seen him in quite some time though; in fact, Cyclops had mentioned once before that he'd been quiet since the Times Square incident. Something about his girlfriend...?

_Who's awake now_, Blair made the connection with what Cyclops had said earlier in the bar. _So now the Brotherhood's making their move, and they've got a little help. I've gotta warn Scott._

Just as she was about to leave she noticed one of the mysterious people pull a small device out of his pocket and then a large white hole opened itself in the middle of the street. Alyson was transfixed by this gaping cavity that had simply appeared out of thin air.

"What the hell-?" she scrunched up her nose as one of the male strangers motioned to what she had decided must be some sort of portal. Avalanche looked skeptical but eventually the Brotherhood trio jumped through and the portal closed behind them.

Alyson shook her head. _Only in New York_, she mused, then quickly bailed out and began her trek to the Xavier Institute to warn Cyclops of the event.

*

Cable and Domino walked cautiously through the tiny Scottish village as they followed Velocity out of town. They kept to the shadows and stayed a safe distance away so as not to arouse suspicion but were close enough to adjust should the speedstress make any sudden moves. Cable glanced at the woman beside him; she looked even paler than usual, and, considering her natural complexion, that was nearly impossible.

"You alright?" Cable grunted under his breath.

Domino reacted as though she'd been pulled out of a trance. "Peachy. Why?"

"Just making sure," he replied, and turned his attention back to the mission.

Domino regarded him for a moment and smirked. Cable wasn't as emotionless as most people wrote him off to be. Truthfully she found him easier to talk to than almost anybody else. But, of course, that was because he was one of the _very_ limited few she trusted. Unfortunately, she couldn't tell him what was bothering her just now, since she couldn't put a finger on it herself. It was definitely something, though. Something important.

Both mercs stopped as the sound of an engine became apparent behind them. They crouched in the shadows and watched as a truck drove closer and closer down the rough road.

"Odd," Domino raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Cable asked.

"I don't remember seeing anybody else but her and the two men who got off the ferry," she said. "Where did the truck come from?"

Cable narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't right. With Domino's control over probability fields, it was highly unlikely that she would miscount the passengers of the ferry or overlook a person in the streets. As an added precaution, he had done a psionic sweep of the village when they had arrived: everybody had been in their houses. "We may not be the only ones after her," he concluded.

Domino watched as Velocity stuck out her thumb and the truck stopped to pick her up. She read her lips and got the destination: "She's going to Glasgow," she relayed to Cable.

"Let's move," he nodded and took her hand. "Computer, body-slide by two to Glasgow."

"_Affirmative_," the AI contained in his techno-organic arm replied. Instantly, a bright glow overtook their bodies and they disappeared, leaving only the shadows behind as Velocity climbed into the truck.

* * *

"Take care o' y'self, lass," the driver said as Velocity stepped out of his truck and on to the streets of Glasgow. When the truck had come up behind her back in the small town, she had opted to hitchhike over using her speed; the less of a trail she left for the X-Men the better. She cast a smug smile over her shoulder at the driver before shutting the door and watching him drive away. Then she reached into the pocket of her newly acquired coat and pulled out the wallet that had been inside.

"This is never going to work," she muttered as she glanced at the owner's ID photo. "She looks nothing like me."

_We'll worry about that later_, Ms. Marvel assured her. _There isn't much time for hesitation. Like I told you before-_

"We've got to keep moving," Sasha rolled her eyes as she completed the sentence for her. She took one last look at the ID and sneered. "Like hell we do. I have spent the last four months on IV drip. If you think I'm passing up Scotch Eggs for breakfast while in Scotland you've got another thing coming."

Velocity ignored the, _And how do you expect to run when your arteries are clogged?_ comment that followed and entered the pub, aptly named 'The Dragon's Lair', across the street.

*

Rogue had a strange feeling wash over her as she neared Muir Island - as though something or some_one_ was telling her not to go. This wouldn't be so strange had it the undertone of a warning. Hell, she _knew_ nothing good ever came of a situation involving her sister. But it seemed to the Mississippi-born mutant to be more of a hint as to where she _should_ be going - a point in the right direction. And there was one word that kept flashing through her mind:

Glasgow.

Rogue was admittedly beginning to get creeped out by the inexplicable knowledge of her sister's whereabouts, but she was smarter than to second-guess her intuition. If an unseen force was helping her get to Sasha before the other X-Men, then who was she to argue?

The Southern Belle changed direction slightly and flew as fast as she could toward Glasgow, Scotland.

*

The truck driver kept an eye on the Russian girl in his rear-view mirror until she entered the small local pub. Then he turned down a backstreet and put the truck into park. He paused before shutting off the ignition, then opted to leave it running. He then opened the door, stepped out, and looked around to ensure nobody was looking before morphing into the figure of the blue-skinned terrorist.

"Next time I'll think twice before taking the shape of a hunched, fat slob," Mystique grumbled to herself as she rolled her shoulders until her back cracked and realigned. Then she shifted back into Mickey's form and entered the street, leaving the truck to be stolen for the second time that morning.

*

The air space above the Xavier Institute was quickly filled as the Blackbird ascended into the darkness of the pre-dawn sky, and two mini-jets rose not too far away.

"_Wolverine_," Cyclops' voice buzzed from the Blackbird over the intercom. "_Find out whatever you can from Sabretooth, then radio back to the Institute. Cerebro will relay any information to the Blackbird_."

"Check, Cyke," Wolverine radioed back from the first mini-jet. "You'll be hearin' from us real soon." A grin came across his face. "Hey, Gumbo? Try not to screw anything up."

"_You be worrying 'bout y'self, mon ami_," Gambit returned. "_Gambit can take care of himself_."

"_Alright, you two,_" Cyclops was back. "_Let's remember we have a job to do, here. Be careful out there. I know I don't have to remind you, but these people don't fool around._"

"_Roger that!_" Morph said from the other mini-jet.

"_Good luck_," Cyclops said. The Blackbird's engines roared and it took off eastward toward the Atlantic.

Wolverine turned around to face Jubilee who was sitting in the back of the mini-jet behind his seat. "How ya doin', kid?" he asked.

"A little nervous," she admitted. "I mean, this whole thing just sorta _happened_, like outta the blue, y'know? One minute, we're getting ready to watch a movie. Next thing you know, Jean's telling us that Velocity woke up from her coma. I dunno, Logan. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"That makes two of us, Jubes," he nodded, then turned back around and signaled to Morph to follow.

*

A large white portal opened in the streets of Glasgow and Pyro burst through and fell flat on his face on the hard cobblestone, winding himself.

"Watch that first step, Aussie," Avalanche smirked as he and Toad jumped out after him.

"Fuck you," Pyro managed to say between coughs and hacks as the other two hoisted him to his feet. Avalanche smacked him on the back and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "Thanks, mate."

"Don't mention it," Avalanche ignored the sarcasm and looked around. "Jeez, feels like we never left, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, the nostalgia's overwhelming," Pyro replied.

"Not that I don't love hearing memories I wasn't part of," Toad interjected, "I feel I must remind you of the mission at hand. Sasha's here somewhere, and so is Mystique."

"Don't worry," Lance's face went grim. "I didn't forget about _her_."

"I'll try to contain my enthusiasm," Toad rolled his eyes at Lance's melodrama. "We better start looking around."

Pyro had stopped listening when he'd caught sight of a slender young man with dark brown hair watching them from the entrance to a backstreet. It wasn't apparent whether he'd seen the portal or not, but he'd been looking at them strangely, as if surprised by their presence. When he realized Pyro was watching him, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and ran his fingers through his stringy locks, pretending not to be interested in them. Pyro narrowed his eyes.

"Earth to Pyro!" Toad shouted.

"What?" Pyro snapped out of his thoughts.

"Are you coming?" Toad motioned to Avalanche who was already halfway across the street, heading for the local pub, 'The Dragon's Lair'. "We're checking it out to see if anyone's seen her."

"Right behind you," Pyro nodded, taking one last glance at the strange man across the street before catching up with his teammates.

*

Mystique took a long drag on the cigarette as she watched Pyro, Toad and Avalanche enter the Dragon's Lair out of the corner of her eye. Their sudden appearance had thrown her off her game and she'd already made herself suspicious by staring at Pyro.

That wasn't even her main concern, however. The Brotherhood's arrival in Glasgow ultimately pointed in one direction: Sinister. The deranged geneticist had commented that he wasn't pleased with her actions and had apparently taken matters into his own hands, forcing her out of the loop. This made her extremely angry. It wasn't as though Essex didn't have a well-founded suspicion against her; she _had_ been planning to betray him and bring her daughter back into her fold - as she had tried to do with Rogue those years ago. It was the sheer _gall_ Sinister had to undermine her that really ticked her off. _Nobody_ shuts out Mystique, and now she was determined to let _nothing_ stand in her way from reclaiming Velocity.

Mystique - still as Mickey - marched across the street and pushed open the door to the pub. A quick look around revealed only a handful of patrons - the pub _had_ only just opened, afterall. The Brotherhood trio was at the bar and Lance was talking to one of the barmaids, but there was no sign of Sasha.

"'Allo, lads," 'Mickey' pushed his way between Lance and Johnny and snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bar. "Couldn't help b'notice ye war lookin' a wee bit lost out on th'street."

"Who the hell are you?" Avalanche glared at the young man beside him.

"Saints pr'serve us from blasphemers an' ill-mannered Irishmen; whar are me manners? M'name's Mickey," he extended a hand. Avalanche simply looked at it and Mickey quickly used it to brush his hair back along his head. "Anyroad, if y'are lookin' far summa, dan I'm yar man. I know thessere town better'n any, an' most o' th'ladies in it, t'boot. I'n th'right, Hayley?" he winked at the barmaid. She instantly turned bright red and looked away, giggling.

"Sorry, mate," Pyro roughly took hold of Mickey's shoulder, "but we won't be needin' any of your help. It isn't any local Sheila we're lookin' for. Thanks anyway," the Aussie sneered and shoved the Irishman out from between him and Avalanche.

"Aye, she's from out'a town, then?" Mickey grinned. "Jus' so 'appens I met summon like t'at earlier. Said she war from N'York. Lovely lass, she war. 'Ad these gorgeous green eyes." He paused and watched the three expectantly. As if on cue, they slowly turned their heads to look at him. "Went by th'name o' Sasha, if I remember right. An' I always do."

"When did you say you saw her?" Toad asked with more than a hint of disbelief.

"Faith, me lad, just parted ways w'her this marnin' after we brought 'er over from Muir on th'ferry," Mickey replied. "But I'm afraid y'won' find her 'ere."

"She's gone?" Pyro demanded.

"Aye, said she war goin' 'ome, she did," the young man nodded.

"Bloody heck," Pyro turned back to his teammates. "So we've come here for nothing, then?"

"We don't even know this guy, mate," Toad said in a hushed voice. "For all we know he's lying."

"Yeah, well we're not gonna find out hanging around here," Avalanche said. "So far, this punk's our only lead."

"But why would the Nasty Boys send us here if she wasn't here?" Toad said.

"They work for Sinister," Pyro shrugged. "That means we can't trust 'em so far as we can throw 'em." He bit the inside of his cheek. "Maybe she hasn't left yet," he suggested of Sasha. "Let's go before we're too late."

*

Rogue looked up at the twirly writing on the sign above the pub: 'The Dragon's Lair'. This was where her hunch had led her, deviating from her original route to Muir Island. She sighed and pulled her leather jacket closer around her shoulders before pushing the door open and leaving the chilly morning air behind for the rustic atmosphere of the old-fashioned pub. The cold immediately left her body when she recognized the three men at the bar.

"Wuht in tarnashun are you three doin' here?" she demanded of Avalanche, Pyro and Toad.

At the sound of her voice, they turned quickly to look at her, eyes wide in surprise. "Rogue!" Pyro gulped, suddenly feeling the broken nose that she'd given him upon their last encounter. "We were just leaving, as it were."

"Ah don' think so, Sugah," Rogue shook her head. "If'n y'all are here, then it mus' be true."

"What must be true?" Avalanche sneered.

"Don' play stupid with me, Lance," she replied. "Ah had uh dream that Sasha was awake. 'Cept it weren't jus' uh dream, were it?"

"You're nuts," Lance rolled his eyes.

Rogue scowled and glared at her dark-haired former teammate. Avalanche glared right back at her, never breaking eye contact. Pyro and Toad exchanged unsure glances, then set their jaws in determination. The buxom young barmaid took a few steps back from the confrontation and the few scattered patrons shrunk down in their seats but kept close watch in hopes of a possible brawl. The scruffy young man who had been standing near the Brotherhood backed off, his eyes locked on Rogue. He slowly made his way to the door and backed outside.

"Ah mebbe nuts," Rogue said, "but y'all are in big trouble if'n ya don' tell me where Sasha is."

"Do you think we'd be in 'ere if we knew?" Pyro snapped.

"So ya do know she's awake then?" Rogue said.

"Oy! Shut up, you!" Toad punched Pyro.

"No, mate. I'm not afraid of her," Pyro stood up and moved in front of Lance. "Yeah, Roguey, she's awake. And to answer your original question, we are 'ere to bring our teammate - and _my_ lovely Sheila, need I remind you - home where she belongs." Pyro moved up so he was nose-to-nose with Rogue. "Now, I'd ask you the same question, but I expect you're 'ere with your mates, all set to bring her in."

"Wuht thuh heck are ya blabberin' about?" Rogue furrowed her eyebrows.

"Oh, 'ave they not told you, then?" Pyro looked amused. "Funny, because they know she's awake. In fact, Lance 'ere heard it from ol' Cyke 'imself." The Aussie's smirk turned malicious. "You'd think they would have mentioned it to you."

"Mebbe Ah'm meetin' them here, hotshot," Rogue quickly returned, silently wondering why, if the other X-Men had known, they hadn't contacted her.

"Somehow I doubt that, love," Pyro said smugly.

Rogue grabbed Pyro by the collar and Avalanche and Toad were immediately at his side. Pyro's smug grin was still on his face. Rogue returned with her own sneer. "Looks lahk we need t'have uh li'l talk, boys," she said and dragged Pyro to the back door. Avalanche and Toad looked at each other. "Y'all comin'?" she asked them overly sweetly.

They shrugged and followed her outside into the back lane. "What do you want, Rogue?" Avalanche demanded.

Rogue turned and threw Pyro back to his teammates. "Uh li'l co-operation, fer starters," she replied, crossing her arms.

"'Scuse me, but I think I heard that wrong," Toad wiggled his finger in his ear. "You want co-operation from _us_? The three you didn't think twice about kicking around not long ago - without reasonable doubt-"

"After deserting two of us," Lance added.

"And then breaking my nose," Pyro nodded.

"And landing our teammate in a coma?" Toad finished. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "You'd be lucky."

Rogue sighed heavily and remembered how Nightcrawler had told her many times to control her anger and approach a problem with peace in mind. "Look, boys, Ah'm gonna level with ya," she said. "Ah ain't here with thuh X-Men. Ah wanted ta find mah sistah b'fore they did."

"If they didn't contact you, how do you know she's 'ere?" Pyro raised an eyebrow.

"Ah tol' ya, Ah had uh dream," Rogue scratched the back of her head. The Brotherhood looked at her like she'd cracked. "Look, Ah can't explain it, but Ah knew she was awake and Ah know she's here."

"Better consult that dream book, again, sweetcheeks," Avalanche said. "Sasha's not here."

"Can it, rock tumbler," Toad elbowed Lance in the ribs.

"Wuht do ya mean?" Rogue asked.

Toad huffed. "He means she's gone. Home. Back to New York."

"So we'll say g'day to you, darlin'," Pyro winked. "And then be on our way."

"No, yer wrong," Rogue shook her head. "Who tol' ya she's gone?"

"The lad we were talking to in the pub," Toad shrugged. "He runs the ferry and brought her over from Muir Island."

Rogue frowned. "Listen, boys. Ah don' care wuht that scrawny raht said. Ah _know_ she's here. An' Ah need yer help ta find her."

Three pairs of eyes nearly bugged out of their heads. "Did I hear that right?" Avalanche said. "Are you actually asking us for help?"

Rogue leaned back against the wall. "Ya, Lance, Ah am. Ah'm bein' straight with y'all. Ah jus' can't let th'others find Sash b'fore Ah do. They don' unnahstand. Ah gotta talk t'her. So y'all gonna help me er wuht?"

Lance looked at Pyro; Pyro looked at Toad; Toad looked back at Lance. Avalanche took a step forward, turning his gaze to Rogue. "Alright, we'll help you out, but on one condition." Rogue waited for his demand. "We aren't the only ones tailing Sash, and if we're gonna get to her first then we gotta play it smart. That means we do this _our_ way. Deal?" he extended his hand.

Rogue looked at it for a moment, then grinned and shook it, but not without using her strength to grind his knuckles together. "Deal."

*

A bright light began to glow and Cable and Domino appeared on the street in front of the Dragon's Lair in time to see Rogue enter the pub.

"Rogue," Cable recognized the X-Man.

"Three guesses as to what she's doing here," Domino folded her arms.

"After her sister, no doubt," he growled.

"Got it in one," she smirked.

Cable charged his weapon. "I didn't expect the X-Men to respond so quickly," he admitted. "But they're on my turf this time. Let's go."

"Hold it, slugger," Domino pulled him to the side just as the door opened again and Mickey backed out. "That's the kid from the ferry," Domino said under her breath. "How the hell did he get here so fast?"

"We're about to find out," Cable replied and quickly moved to grab the kid's arm. "Start talkin', kid. Where is she?"

"I dunno know wha' yar talkin' 'bout!" Mickey protested and struggled against Cable's grip. "Lemme go!"

"I'm gonna give you to the count of two," Cable pointed his gun at the kid's head. "One..."

"I said lemme go!" the Irishman yelled before his appearance suddenly changed. His slender frame grew until he became the massive hulking form of the Unstoppable Juggernaut. "Now!"

Juggernaut swung his arm and tossed Cable against the wall of the pub. Domino had her weapon up and aimed but Juggernaut swatted her away before she could fire the bullet that would have navigated its way through the eyehole of his helmet. The giant then picked up both X-Force members and threw them into the trash-littered alley beside the pub. Cable smashed his head against a dumpster and Domino's thin body scraped along the brick wall. Juggernaut then morphed back into the scruffy kid and took off down the alley.

"What the hell was that?" Domino pushed herself to her knees and inspected the tender, raw flesh scraped all to hell along her arms, shoulders and back. "He could have finished us right there, but he runs away? And since when is Juggernaut a shapeshifter?"

"That wasn't Juggernaut," Cable groaned, shaking the cobwebs from his spinning head.

"Coulda fooled me," Domino said.

"I did a quick psi-scan before getting introduced to Mr. BFI, here," he replied. "That was Mystique."

Domino looked in the direction their attacker had run off. "Shit."

*

Sasha studied herself in the pub's bathroom mirror, then took another look at the stolen ID photo.

"I guess it is possible," she shrugged.

_It's also our only option at the moment_, Ms. Marvel replied. _Unless you've got a better idea, and _don't_ say go back to New York_.

Sasha smirked. She became vaguely aware of raised voices outside but turned back to the mirror when they quieted down again. "Well," she said as she picked up two elastic bands and tied her hair back in short pigtails to match the photo, "it is worth a shot. Let's do this."

_I thought you wanted breakfast_.

"Forget it; I'll pick something up later," Sasha replied and exited the washroom. The barmaid had gone pale and was looking at the back door. The patrons looked a bit disappointed. "Besides, I am not so sure it is safe to eat here," she whispered. Ms. Marvel chuckled.

Sasha quickly exited the pub and saw a taxi cab down the street. She raised a hand to call for it and turned her head slightly at the sound of a loud commotion in the alley. She shrugged it off, however, as the taxi pulled up.

"Train station, please," she said as she got in and the cab drove off.

****

To Be Continued...


	7. And Justice for All

Disclaimer - see previous chapters

A/N - sorry to anyone who was disappointed that this chapter took so incredibly long to write. Blame my Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings fics if you must. At any rate, it's up now, and here to stay. _Vivez des X-Men!_ Thanks to everyone who's reviewed thus far, I hope you enjoy this latest installment J 

The Memory Remains

Chapter 7

----

__

Apathy their stepping stone

So unfeeling

Hidden deep animosity

So deceiving

Through your eyes their light burns

Hoping to find

Inquisition sinking you

With prying minds.

---Metallica "…And Justice for All"

----

Day was dawning in New York City and Alyson Blair was getting frustrated with her inability to get hold of anyone at the Xavier Institute. She had been calling repeatedly on her cell phone on the way over and now nobody was answering the buzzer at the gate. She was over-tired, irritated, and was now dangerously bordering on cranky. She had to be at the club again tonight - in what seemed to be only a few short hours - and didn't have any more time to wait. So she pulled out her cell phone (which she was really beginning to hate the sight of) and called the mansion's number.

"Hi, Scott, it's Alyson," she said when prompted. "This is about the fiftieth time I've called in the past few hours. I dunno where you guys are but I sure hope you get this message soon; I think it might be important.

"Last night when I was walking home I saw Lance again - always a thrill - but this time he was with Pyro and Toad," she frowned and scratched her forehead. "They were talking to, um, well I dunno _who_ they were, but, let me just say they weren't exactly the type you'd see out in broad daylight, y'know? Two guys and a girl, minus the pizza place, and they were definitely mutants.

"One guy's skin was all purple and he had pink hair - we're talkin' serious fashion victim here. The other guy wore a purple coat and had pink hair too, and the girl...well, I knew bellbottoms were coming back but I didn't know they brought tie-dye mini-skirts with them," Alyson rolled her eyes as her fatigue began to take control of her sense of humour. "I'm hoping all this will mean something to you, because all I could think of was that the Brotherhood had decided to join the circus.

"Anyway, before I get cut off, they were talking and suddenly this white-" Alyson screwed up her face as she tried to think of the right word, "-_portal_ opened up. I know, I thought I was seeing things too, until Lance and his buddies jumped in. And, I mean this is all speculation of course, but you remember Lance's face in the bar when you told him that Sasha chick was awake? I sure do, and he had the same one tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if they're already a couple of steps ahead of you guys. So, uh, watch your backs, okay?"

She clicked the phone off and sighed. "I need a vacation," she said as she ran her fingers through her short brown hair and started back home.

*

Clouds of dust curled into the air as the two mini-jets slowly descended into a fenced-in lot outside the large Department H Headquarters building situated in the remote wilderness of Northern Alberta. The engines hissed as they shut off and then three figures climbed out and surveyed their surroundings and the scenic beauty of the not-so-distant Rocky Mountains.

Wolverine pulled back his mask and deeply inhaled the crisp pre-dawn air. Jubilee and Morph came up on either side of him.

"You okay?" Jubilee asked him.

"Sure kid," he shrugged, his eyes locked on the bright full moon. "Just remembering the last time I was up this way...with Sabretooth, Maverick and Silver Fox..."

The door to the building opened as floodlights lit up the lot and snapped Wolverine out of his thoughts. Four figures came outside and approached the X-Men: the young Québeccer Northstar and his sister Aurora - AKA the Northern Lights, the pint-sized Puck, and Dr. Heather Hudson.

"Wolverine," Heather said when they were close enough. "I'm glad you came."

"Where's Sabretooth?" Wolverine immediately demanded.

Heather looked momentarily hurt but her expression quickly clouded and she straightened. "He's inside, and completely restrained. We're taking no chances."

"Finally doing something right."

"Yeah, now that we don't have to worry about keeping you under control, I imagine."

Wolverine and Heather glared at each other for the longest, most uncomfortable minute Morph ever knew and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He glanced from his old friend to the frowning members of Alpha Flight flanking Dr. Hudson before his gaze settled on Aurora. She was looking at him strangely as if pleading for him to do something, and he noticed the frown on her face was not of anger but of disappointment. Morph turned back to Wolverine and threw an elbow into his ribs.

"C'mon, Logan," he said without giving his friend a chance to react to the jab. "I wanna find out if the big guy's got any information we can beat out of him." He threw a look at Jubilee for her to follow and they went with Alpha Flight into Department H Headquarters. Wolverine and Heather brought up the rear without a word between them.

*

Moira MacTaggart and Banshee walked outside the Muir Island Research Facility as the Blackbird approached the landing pad, and soon Cyclops, Jean, Beast, Gambit and Storm joined them on the ground.

"We came as soon as we could, Moira," Jean said as Cyclops shook hands with Banshee. "I only hope it's soon enough."

"Considerin' who we're dealin' with, Jean, I donnah think there _is_ a soon enough," Moira replied.

"Isn't that the truth?" Cyclops agreed. "As far as I'm concerned, the faster we find Velocity, the better."

"I completely agree w'ye, Cyclops," Moira nodded. "But ye mus' be careful. I believe her mind is confused an' she'll no' understand wha' is goin' on. In tha' state she may be e'en more dangerous than ye know."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cyclops said. "But right now our priority is to find Velocity before the Brotherhood does. Gambit, Storm," he turned to his teammates, "let's move out."

"Good luck, lad," Banshee said. "If ye're wantin' my advice, ye'll contact the Ferryman. The only way off this island -unless the lass used her powers- is by the Muir Island Ferry. William lives in the small town on the mainland coast. He's a good man, an' he'll help ye if he can."

"Thanks, Sean," Cyclops smiled appreciatively, and then he, Gambit and Storm reentered the Blackbird and soon they were gone.

Jean turned to Moira and Banshee. "We're anxious to help with Kevin, Moira, but if you don't mind, we haven't slept since you called last night."

"O' course, Jean," Moira smiled kindly. "I'll show ye and Hank to ye rooms."

Beast, after picking up his medical kit in preparation to follow his hosts into the facility, noticed a small frown cross Jean's face.

"Something troubling you, Jean?" he whispered.

Jean pursed her lips and then replied using telepathy. _It may be just lack of sleep, Hank, but I cannot locate Rogue at the Neuherzl Monastery. I have been trying to reach her since we left._

Beast furrowed his bushy brow. "Perhaps after a rest your powers will be rejuvenated," he assured her. "I am certain it is nothing more than fatigue."

Many things can be said about the man known as Dr. Henry McCoy, but that he is a fool is not among them. Beast knew that, tired or not, there was no way the most powerful telepath on the planet should be unable to contact their teammate. Jean had been in Rogue's mind more than once; it was not possible for the Southern Belle to elude the redhead's detection if she knew where to find her. Therefore, only one explanation was possible: Rogue was no longer at Neuherzl.

_My thoughts exactly_, Jean told him.

*

"No answer," Toad muttered as he snapped shut his cell phone. "Freddy must still be in the kip - what time _is_ it?"

Lance looked around for a clock and eventually located one inside the window of a nearby building. "Bit past ten."

"So it's only 'bout five back home," Toad shrugged as he pocketed the device. "Our Fred doesn't get up this early sober, so's not likely he'll be up for a sunrise when he's flipping smashed."

"All that means is we've been dallying about for near three hours and we _still_ haven't a clue as to the whereabouts of Sasha!" Pyro spat as his patience began to wear thin. He rounded on Rogue, who'd been walking a pace behind the three men, lost in her own thoughts. "_You_ were the one who said she were 'ere, darlin'. _So? Where is she?_"

Rogue's eyes were dark as she met the other's heated gaze. "Can it, firefly," she warned, clenching her fist. "An' _don't_ call me 'darlin'."

"Not a problem," the blond Aussie retorted and moved up to walk with Lance. Toad, meanwhile, fell back beside Rogue.

"How is it you knew she were here?" he asked.

"What's it t'you?" she snapped, shooting him a dirty look.

"It's interesting is all," he shrugged. "No need to get your knickers in a twist. Just, well, you never _used_ to be able to sense her or you'd have known all them years she were alive."

"Ah guess so," she conceded, thinking about his words. "Y'all sayin' ya got an idea 'bout what's goin' on here, Shorty?"

"No way to be sure yet, but I'd wager me mum's pension it's down to that device what zapped you 'n Sasha," he said. "Loved to have gotten me hands on that gem if bloody McCoy hadn't beaten me to it. D'you reckon he'd lend it?"

Rogue smiled softly at his joke. "Doubt it, Sugah."

"Pity," Toad smirked. "Has he figured anything about it?"

"Said some technical _hoo-ha_ 'bout affectin' the X-gene and reversin' the nature of our mutant abilities," she replied casually. "All Ah know's it messed up Sash somethin' awful."

"You're telling me," Toad rolled his deep yellow eyes. An awkward silence followed as both realized they had talked themselves into a corner. Toad quickly cleared his throat. "So-"

"Shh," Rogue held up a finger as she cut him off. Toad watched her curiously as she closed her eyes in concentration and, without opening them, pointed off to her right. "There."

The green-haired mutant looked in the indicated direction. "The train station?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Ah think-"

"Oy! What's the bloody holdup 'ere?" Pyro demanded as he and Lance doubled back, realizing the others had stopped walking.

Rogue glared at him. "What Ah was _gonna_ say, b'fore Ah was so _rudely_ interrupted, was that Sasha was here."

"Oh really? And is this another of your '_Ah jus' know_' moments," he mimicked her, making Avalanche and Toad snort (because an Australian imitating a Mississippi accent is probably the funniest thing you will ever hear), "or did you find the graffiti she's gone and left?"

"If'n y'all don' _want_ mah help, _hotrod_," Rogue's cheeks were flushed as she snarled at Pyro, "jus' say so!"

"Maybe we _don't_."

"Fine!"

"_Fine_!"

The ground shook violently beneath their feet, and, before Rogue could take off, both she and Pyro had lost their balance and landed hard on the cobblestone.

"Finished?" Lance asked as he ended his seismic shockwave. "If we're going to find her, we're gonna have to work together, so how about the two of you bitch at each other on your _own_ time. Got it?"

"Jus' keep _him_ away from me," Rogue snapped in reply as she pushed herself to her feet and stomped toward the train station.

Pyro stood up without a word and became the recipient of a slap upside the head, courtesy of Avalanche. The Aussie rounded on him, intending to punch the other in the face, but Lance easily blocked him.

"Cool it, Sparky," he ordered, shoving the smaller man back a step. "Pissing off an X-Man is one thing. Pissing off your few remaining friends - _that's_ something else."

Pyro rolled his eyes and straightened his coat but didn't argue.

"What next then, Boss?" Toad asked offhandedly.

"Whoa, _whoa_ - Boss?" Pyro scoffed and looked angrily at his teammate. "Since when are _you _in charge, Lancey-boy?"

"Since _now_," Avalanche replied smoothly. "Mystique fucked us over, Sash ain't here, and if you think _you're_ more qualified you've got another thing coming. It wouldn't be my first choice to follow a fucking _suicidal_ leader."

Pyro's face fell and he was suddenly unable to look his friend in the eye. He unconsciously shoved his left hand in his pocket to avoid catching a glimpse of the ugly scar that decorated that wrist. His stomach cramped as a wave of humiliation swept over him. _What will _she_ think when she sees what I've done?_ He'd been weak - _too_ weak, for certain, to be a leader.

"So, unless there are any further arguments," Lance continued, though his tone was not quite so harsh, "I'll _tell_ you 'what next'. Toad, you were just talking to Rogue. Do you believe her about Sasha?"

"_She_ seems to believe it," Toad nodded after a side glance at Pyro. "And she did ask _us_ for help. I don't reckon she's trying it on, not where her sister's concerned."

"Anyway, she's our only lead," Lance agreed. "For now, then, we go with her. Without a _Blackbird_ of our own - or more help from the Nasty Boys - we're up Shit's Creek when it comes to options."

*

With the unexpected emergence of Mystique as a player, Cable and Domino had decided to change their game plan. After the attack in the alley outside the Dragon's Lair, they'd lost Velocity's trail and had to regroup. As luck would have it, however, they'd dragged their beaten bodies to the back lane and ducked out of sight of the four figures they discovered gathered there.

Though both had been mildly shocked at the X-Man's readiness to conspire with her terrorist former-teammates, Domino had pointed out that, between the four of them, their resolve to locate Velocity was great. Far greater, she'd continued, than that of a pair of mercenaries seeking only justice and the bounty on her head. Cable had been eager to argue that point, but nevertheless conceded to follow Rogue and the Brotherhood trio, which they had done all the way to the train station.

"Did you manage to scan them?" Domino asked as she watched the three men enter the building.

"The guys don't know anything - no surprises there," Cable replied, his gruff voice momentarily softening for the subtle wisecrack. He recalled the images of the young Irishman he'd seen in their minds. "Seems Mystique tried to throw them off track, so they're apparently not working for her.

"Rogue's got her own agenda, though," he frowned. "She's not representing her team on this - in fact she wants to find the target before the X-Men."

"Stupid git, letting her emotions get involved," Domino shook her head. "So, including us, that's four different parties playing this game," she quickly tallied. "Makes things a tad complicated."

"That's not all," Cable said. "Something I sensed when I was scanning Rogue's mind - it was almost like I could hear the Russian bitch herself. 'Cept Rogue's no PSI; neither's the other one. Don't add up."

Domino turned to look at him. "Do you remember the old days when mercs had their business and heroes had _their_ business and they all just kinda stayed out of each other's way?"

Cable raised an eyebrow. "No."

"Neither do I, but a girl can dream," she replied and tossed her long sable tresses over her shoulder. "I think, Nathan my dear, that it is well-nigh time we made our move." She patted her concealed sidearm and set off with her partner for the train station.

****

TBC


	8. Frantic

The Memory Remains

Chapter 8

----

__

If I could have my wasted days back

Would I use them to get back on track?

Stop to warm at karmas burning

Or look ahead, but keep on turning?

Do I have the strength

To know how I'll go?

Can I find it inside

To deal with what I shouldn't know?

---Metallica "Frantic"

----

Mystique was annoyed.

She hadn't meant to reveal her presence, and therefore tip her hand so early in the game. It was especially bad luck that she'd managed to do so for a pair of anti-terrorism mutant mercenaries like Cable and Domino. It had been such a _rookie_ mistake after coming this far without being discovered.

After abandoning the rest of the Brotherhood at Times Square, Mystique and Sabretooth had escaped by using a Channel-Seven News chopper, the pilot of which was all-too-easily subdued. The two had gone as far as the half-full fuel tank could take them and then had painstakingly made their way on foot across the Canadian border on their way to Sabretooth's isolated dwelling in Northern Alberta.

It had taken several days of walking - taking care to stay off the main roads in case the law should have followed them into this country - before they had managed to hijack an unsuspecting traveler on an Ontario back road. Sabretooth had left the man's mangled body hanging from a maple tree (picked out specially as his own morbid little joke) on the side of the road, but not before Mystique had relieved him of his wallet.

For the rest of the trip, Mystique had assumed the form of the unfortunate man, while Sabretooth had tried his best to downplay his extreme appearance with civilian attire - steel-toed work boots, worn blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. Even a quick glance at him had made Mystique chuckle; he'd looked like the stereotype of a Canadian lumberjack. All he'd needed, she'd commented, was a wooly toque (and she had received a low growl for her efforts).

It hadn't taken long, however, for things to go wrong. As the leader of the terrorist faction that had directly threatened the President of the United States of America, Mystique was not somebody whose presence in its country the Canadian government was willing to overlook. She had known that the clock was ticking on how much longer Sabretooth's cabin would make an effective hiding place. It was only a matter of time before the all-Canuck Alpha Flight or the US-sanctioned X-Factor would be on the hunt.

Fortunately, if Mystique was one thing, she was resourceful. The blue-skinned metamorph knew that safety lay in numbers, and where were there more people like her than the mutant-governed island of Genosha? And, she had realized, with the disappearance of the mutant overlord Magneto, the Genoshans would be seeking another to unite their strength and lead them to the 'Dream' of supremacy of _Homo sapiens superior_.

That's what she would let them believe, anyway. Mystique had never truly bought into Magneto's idealist views and self-righteous desires. She had certainly never had any problems working as an agent for hire for non-genactive employers, so long as the price was right. Her outlook on life was much simpler: get in her way or threaten her safety and suffer the consequences. By openly declaring war on mutantkind through their attack of Professor Charles Xavier, the Friends of Humanity had done both. The fact that they were bottomfeeding, mutant-hating scum would just be a bonous for when she put a bullet in each member's skull.

All that, important as it was, would have had to wait. The priority at that moment had been finding somewhere safe to lie low, and Genosha had been her best bet. The problem, of course, was in getting there. In lieu of recent events, she couldn't exactly book a commercial flight to the island located off the east coast of Africa. Even her shapeshifting abilities were of no help when there were no public transports to the mutant sanctuary. The only way in or out these days was under one's own power.

After a very animated discussion-turned-heated argument with Sabretooth, Mystique had managed to convince her partner that the easiest way to the island was a straight line across the ocean. Though they hadn't an ally with the gift of flight, they _did_ have one with that of speed.

Mystique was _convinced_ that she could win back Sasha's favour, despite her betrayal. She was, afterall, still her _mother_. For all the good Sabretooth's protests did he had made it perfectly clear he did not agree, though he recognized that he could not dissuade her with anything less than a knockout blow. Therefore, with a blasé promise to keep a low profile, he had watched as she left the cabin destined for New York City.

It had not been an easy journey but she had made it (and without the homicide required of the previous trip), only to discover a fact that had put the proverbial damper on her plans: Sasha was no longer in the Big Apple. In fact, as she had learned from an exceedingly soused Lance Alvers while in disguise in a bar one night, she was deep in a coma under the care of Moira MacTaggart at the Muir Island Research Facility.

Needless to say, Mystique had not been pleased. Leaving her former lackey in his drunken state of semi-consciousness, the metamorph had desperately sought a way to Scotland. Again, her powers of ingenuity would come into play. It had not been long (a day at the most) after letting a few key players in on her situation that Mystique received an invitation to an audience with none other than Mr. Sinister. The vile geneticist had helped her once before and had been intrigued with the case presented to him.

Sinister had just so happened to have an invested interest in the Russian mutant speed she-demon as well, and had agreed to help Mystique in getting to her. His terms, however, had stated that it would be as an agent in his employ in order to monitor the young woman's progress and relay information as it was acquired. It was his demand in return for a past favour that if and when Sasha Romanov should emerge from her comatose state, she would be turned over into Sinister's custody - for reasons he would not divulge. Mystique had hastily consented; she had been anxious to go. As for allowing Sinister possession of her daughter, she had decided that she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Satisfied with the arrangement, Sinister had transported her to Scotland.

It was there that she'd met the charming young Irishman going by the name of Mickey McKenzie who worked as the First Mate on the Muir Island Ferry. The libido-driven youth had been easily seduced under the guise of a sultry femme fatale and then held hostage in his own home after she revealed her true form. Mystique had been reluctant to kill the boy; he'd proven to be irresistibly attractive. She was certain she'd find a use or two for him in the future, and had therefore spared his meager life.

Afterward, she had taken his place on board the ferry for the ensuing months in the service of Captain William Douglas. This had been the exact reason Mystique had chosen Mickey in the first place; what better way to keep tabs on her daughter than to work so near the facility in which she lay? She had kept her ear to the ground for any word of change as to Sasha's condition, and for months the situation remained unaltered. Imagine her surprise, then, when, one night, her daughter had turned up in front of her on the shore! The shapeshifter had been so startled that she'd nearly forgotten herself and betrayed her disguise...

It was strange to think that had only been a few short hours ago. Mystique's lips curled into a slow snarl; she had been _so close_ to getting her back, only to have her hopes dashed when those three bumbling _idiots_ of her former employ stumbled onto the scene, followed by Rogue and then the mercenaries.

Rogue. Seeing the skunk-streaked X-Man had only helped in reminding Mystique of the _last_ time she had tried to reclaim a daughter - an endeavor that had ultimately led to failure. In a desperate attempt to have Rogue break through the mental barriers constructed in her mind by Xavier and remember her time with the Brotherhood, Mystique had urged the young woman to touch her skin and absorb her memories (and subsequently, her shapeshifting powers) that would reveal to her the truth. It was an effort that had nearly cost Rogue her life as the imprisoned psyche of Carol Danvers - known to many as the superpowered Avenger Ms. Marvel, the woman whose identity the X-Man had once stolen - had attempted to use the Mississippi-born mutant's newly acquired morphing ability to manifest her consciousness and form in this new body. Only with the help of fellow X-Man Jean Grey was Rogue able to survive the ordeal as the two women fought Danvers on the psychic plane and together overcame and incarcerated her within the deep recesses of Rogue's mind.

It was an episode that had left Rogue emotionally scarred as she attempted to come to terms with the monster she had been and the crimes she had committed. It was the moment in which the Southern Belle had rejected the invitation put forth by her foster mother and had walked out of her life. It was a day Mystique would never forget as long as she lived.

It had been an opportunity presented to her by none other than Mr. Sinister. It was her debt to him: _one daughter for the other_.

And it was beginning to look more and more like Sinister would stop at nothing to obtain his prize. Whatever the reason for his interest in Sasha, Mystique did not care.

"If he wants to involve those three pathetic whelps," she said of Pyro, Avalanche and Toad, "then so be it. He'll soon discover what a liability they truly are. Probably about the same time he discovers his mistake in underestimating Raven Darkhölme."

She checked the sights on her handgun by setting her target between the baby blue eyes of the true Mickey McKenzie where he lay bound and gagged on his oak-framed bed. She had taken over the boy's Glasgow flat during her time here (and not a day had gone by without a complaint about the distance to travel from the city to the coast and back again). The small desk was cluttered with pilfered handguns - her weapon of choice - and their accessories.

A cruel smile crossed her face as beads of sweat appeared on the boy's brow, and she lowered her adjusted pistol. "Nervous, pussycat?" she purred in delight and concealed the weapon in a holster on her leg beneath her flowing white skirt. "No need for that; I've told you already that I won't hurt you," she said as she seductively stalked over to the bed and then crawled onto the young man's chest, "unless you ask me _nicely_."

Mickey was unable to hide the arousal in his eyes - or anywhere else for that matter.

Mystique pressed her lips against his in an aggressive kiss, finishing by biting his lower lip hard enough to draw a drop of blood. As she lay on top of him, she transformed her appearance until he was looking into the eyes of his doppelganger - a sensation he wasn't sure qualified as disturbing or strangely _stimulating_.

"Gotta go, _lover boy_," she cooed in his throaty Irish brogue. "We kin finish thess later."

Leaving him with that thought to chew over, Mystique pushed herself off the bed, pocketed several extra ammo clips and a large switchblade (this had been his), and walked out the door. The adrenaline rush she'd just achieved would give a much-needed energy boost for the task at hand. She exited the flat quickly, forgetting (for about the thousandth time) about the cobblestone that protruded a half-inch above the rest, and succeeding in stubbing her toe. The ensuing string of expletives that exploded from her mouth did wonders for draining her newfound energy.

Yes, regarding the situation as a whole, Mystique was most certainly annoyed.

*

"There was somethin' strange about the lass, Mr. Summers, aye, but I could no' tell ye what it was, exactly."

"Was she acting strangely? Or maybe something she said?"

"Oh, aye, a little of both I'd say."

William Douglas chuckled heartily as he spoke and took a sip of his morning coffee. He was in a rather cheerful mood, considering his lie-in had been interrupted. His eldest son, Malcolm, was running the ferry today, and he'd been looking forward to his day off. Until a few minutes ago, his list of things to do hadn't included a visit from a man asking questions about his most recent fare.

"If I may ask, Mr. Summers," William began after setting down his mug, "jus' why are ye so interested in the lass? Old girlfriend, perhaps?" His gentle teasing was rewarded with a look of sheer horror that momentarily crossed the man's face.

"This woman is a wanted criminal," he replied after regaining his composure. "And a dangerous one at that."

"Ah, yes, and ye're a detective, then?" William nodded.

The other man smirked, and sipped his own coffee. "Something like that."

"I suspected so," the Scotsman replied, taking in the skintight yellow and blue costume the man wore. "Is tha' regulation for ye these days, then?" He grinned and shook his head. "For the life o' me, I'll ne'er understand ye Americans."

Scott Summers had to smile; truthfully, he'd been expecting the comment to come much earlier in the conversation.

"Truth be tol', Mr. Summers, she were a lovely lass," William continued as his wife, Sadie, entered the room. Her long brown hair was pulled back and she carried a gurgling sixteen-month old boy - their youngest - perched on her hip. "But I dinnoh take much notice. I'm happily married, y'see."

"Good man," Sadie winked and rewarded him with a quick peck on the cheek before passing the child to him. "An' don' ye forget it."

"Sadie, my love, ye've not to worry," he replied and cradled the fussing baby in his muscular arms. "But if ye wan' my advice," he turned back to his guest, "ye'll talk to me First Mate, Mickey McKenzie. The lad thinks hisself t'be a bit of a lady-killer, an' he took quite a notice o' this lass. My guess - the state she were in - is tha' your girl spent the night w'im."

There was more than a bit of doubt in Cyclops' mind regarding William's suggestion, considering the level of the relationship between Velocity and Pyro. If Jean had been correct in assuming the state of Sasha's mind, however (and she was usually to be trusted in these matters), the idea might not be so out of the question.

"Thanks for the tip, Mr. Douglas," he said. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"Lad's got a flat in Glasgow," William nodded and turned to Sadie. "Fetch Mickey's address, will ye, love?" She nodded and hurried from the room. "I expect ye'll find 'im there. I gave 'im the day off on account us gettin' back so late."

"William?" Sadie poked her head through the doorway. "There's a young man at the door sayin' he works w'Mr. Summers. Shall I send 'im through?"

"Aye, thank ye, love," he nodded and soon Gambit entered, followed by a young woman. William took one look at the Cajun's attire and turned to Cyclops. "Well, he's certainly one o' _your_ group, Mr. Summers."

Gambit raised an eyebrow but decided not to comment. "_Merci beaucoup, Madame_," he smiled in his natural charming tone at Sadie, and then approached the settee on which William and Cyclops sat.

"Mr. Douglas, this is Remy LeBeau," Cyclops introduced the two men. "He's investigating this case with me."

"Pleasure to meet you, _m'sieur_," Gambit extended his hand, which his host firmly shook. "An' dis be-"

"No need, Mr. LeBeau," William held up his hand. "This lass be me neighbour, Miss Mary Wallace." He smiled warmly and gestured to the large armchair opposite him. "Good t'see ye, darlin'. Make ye'selves at home." Gambit, ever the gentleman, moved aside to let Mary into the chair and opted himself to stand. "How's your dear ol' ma these days?"

"Much better, thank ye, Mr. Douglas," the girl replied; though her smile was not genuine. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was a light shade of red as though she'd been crying.

"Dis _fille_, she say she been robbed, _mon ami_," Gambit said to Cyclops. "Dat her wallet been stolen." He turned to Mary. "You tell Scott what you tell ol' Remy, _petite_."

"Well, Mr. Summers," Mary began, delicately wiping away the crust forming in the corner of her right eye, "las' night me ma called me to her room - said she'd heard the door slam. I tol' her i' must ha' been the shutters in the wind for I dinnoh see anythin' when I went down to 'ave a look. But this mornin', sir, I saw me coat was gone, and me bag an' all w'me wallet an' passport. I searched everywhere, but i's no use - i's been stolen, sir!"

Gambit looked at Cyclops as William sent Sadie for a cup of tea for the girl. "Only couple dat Remy can t'ink of could do dat so fast, _mon ami_," he said. "'Specially if dat someone be needing a _nom de plume_."

"Point taken," Cyclops nodded and the two X-Men rose to their feet. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas, for all your help. I think it best that we talk to your First Mate as soon as possible."

"Aye, well, good luck t'ye, lads," William replied, standing up to see them to the door. Sadie passed him a piece of paper she'd retrieved on one of her journeys to the kitchen, and William, in turn, handed it to Cyclops. "I 'ope Mickey'll be able te set ye right. He's a good lad, e'en if he is a wee bit of a pillock at times - don't think w'is _head_, if ye get my meanin'."

"Loud and clear," Cyclops nodded, shooting a meaningful look at Gambit, who smiled innocently. They thanked William again before walking out the door and into the cool, moist air surrounding the seaside village. Storm was waiting for them back at the _Blackbird_. "Any news?" he asked her.

"One man claims his truck has been stolen," Storm replied. "Aside from that it would appear that nobody noticed anything unusual."

"Not hard to believe," Cyclops frowned. "This _is_ the location Cerebro detected Velocity's mutant signature. It all happened too fast for _anyone_ to notice. So now, we've got a dangerous criminal with a potentially confused mind, a stolen vehicle and a fake ID."

"Dis day jus' keep gettin' better, _non_?" Gambit shook his head.

*

_Snikt_.

The telltale sound of metal scraping along metal echoed around the holding cell on the sublevel of Department H Headquarters, and all eyes went to Wolverine and the adamantium claws that had just popped from the backs of his hands.

Sabretooth's attention had been on him all along.

"Whatcha gonna do, runt?" he cackled. "Throw one o' your famous temper tantrums on me?"

"Wipin' that smirk offa yer face'll do fer starters," Wolverine snarled in reply. "After that, I might hafta let my _artistic_ side out - the _Van Gogh_ look would go _great_ on you."

Heather was the only other person in the room; the other members of Alpha Flight were outside watching through an observation window along with Morph and Jubilee. It had taken a great deal of will power to remain silent and allow Wolverine to conduct the interrogation. She knew, however, that to interrupt and undermine the feral X-Man's authority in front of Sabretooth would completely compromise the chance of getting any information from him. Therefore, she kept to the background and recorded the readings from the machines monitoring the prisoner's heart and brain activity.

"We've done this dance before, Wolverine," the big mutant yawned. "Nothing ever changes."

"Last time it did," the shorter man corrected. "See, usually it's jus' you 'n me, Creed, fightin' our own private war - and that's just _fine_ with me.

"But last time you made the mistake of takin' my buddy Morph hostage - threatened t'kill him even," his eyes narrowed to slits. "That's when things went from fine to _not so fine_,and _real _quick like."

Wolverine stalked to where Sabretooth sat strapped to a chair and leaned toward him until they were nose to nose. "You should know better'n anyone, bub - I _hate_ it when a guy won't fight me man t'man. An' I _sure_ don't take kindly to my friends bein' dragged into _my_ business."

"You should know better too, runt," Sabretooth replied evenly, unfazed by Wolverine's speech. "It ain't just _our war_ no more. Not since my kid's playmates made an example outta Xavier. Now your pal's just as involved as any of us."

"Since when are _you_ a freedom fighter?" Wolverine retorted. "You've never cared about anyone but yourself."

"Don't act like yer so much better," Sabretooth snorted. "The only reason yer still hangin' around that wussy buncha do-gooders is cuzza that foxy redhead."

Wolverine's neck prickled and his top lip began to curl. "You leave her _outta _this."

Sabretooth's black eyes twinkled with malicious delight. "Yeah, _Jean Grey_ - shoulda kidnapped that broad instead. She smells _real_ good - wonder if she _tastes_ just as-"

A wild savage howl rattled off the walls as Wolverine leapt forward. One set of claws swung past Sabretooth's right ear, cropping off a large chunk of thick, blond hair. The other thrust down and sunk deep into the man's muscular thigh. Sabretooth roared in pain as he felt his tendons shredded and bones sliced. Hot blood flowed from the wound and his muscles began to tense but he never broke eye contact with Wolverine.

"_My God_!" Heather gasped; unable to control her horror, she felt her knees go weak.

"He'll heal," Wolverine shrugged off her concern. "Won't ya - ya big bastard?" Sabretooth replied with a throaty growl. "You ain't foolin' _nobody_, bub. That team meant _nuthin_' t'you. I saw what ya did to the Aussie."

"Kid got on my _nerves_," Sabretooth spat back. "Anyhow, way I heard it, them _toothpicks_ o' yours did a number on Alvers. So what gives _you_ the right t'preach t'_me_?"

"I ain't never fragged a teammate!" the other snapped, driving his claws in further. "That's a talent you got in _spades_."

"Like I said, runt - nothing ever changes."

Wolverine sheathed his bio-weapons and bent down to pick up the pile of hair on the floor. "You'd better do some thinkin' before we talk again, Creed," he said, dangling the strands in front of Sabretooth, who was glaring murder at him. "Next time I might not be in such a _good mood_. Might hafta start takin' you apart _piece by piece_."

"You want it to be our war again, Wolverine?" the big man snarled. "Just you wait. After all this is said and done, it'll still be _you_ 'n _me_. Like they say: the only thing that could survive a nuclear holocaust's us 'n the roaches. So just you _wait_, runt."

"Count on it," Wolverine replied as he and Heather exited the room.

*

"You certainly have a way with words, buddy," Morph chuckled as the door slid shut behind Wolverine, and Heather immediately sought out the nearest chair and proceeded to collapse into it. Her knees were still knocking from what she'd witnessed first hand between the two feral mutants. Aurora met her gaze but was dismissed from further concern by a wave of the doctor's hand.

"Too bad none of 'em were inspirational," Wolverine replied. "Didn't get nothin' useful from him."

"Except a career tip," Jubilee wrinkled her nose as she noted through the window Sabretooth's butchered mane. "Don't become a barber." She smiled weakly, trying very hard not to look at the blood on the big man's thigh.

Wolverine saw how pale her face had gone and joked along with her to help divert her attention. "I dunno, Jubes. I kinda like his new do."

"Nevertheless, we've learned nothing new," Heather finally found her voice again and got to her feet. "Somehow I thought you'd be able to get something out of him, Logan."

"I'da been more surprised if he _had_ spilled his guts," Wolverine mused, letting his eyes rest on the scarlet stains adorning his blue gloves. "Whatever I couldn't do for him, that is. Least it wasn't a _total_ loss."

Jubilee felt her stomach flop and Heather made a face. "Our organization was issued on the case in the likely event he and Mystique would try to lie low in Canada, but there's no evidence they were even working together after Times Square," Heather continued. "It's just as likely he knows nothing."

"He knows," Wolverine muttered.

"I wish I had your confidence," she shook her head.

"Ain't confidence, sweetheart. It's _instinct_. Ain't no way those two weren't on the ups about Velocity's condition."

"Well, in any case, I'm headed to the control room. Snowbird and Sasquatch have been patrolling. I should see if they've checked in."

"I-I'll come with you," Jubilee offered, eager to get away from the bloody sight.

Wolverine watched them go before turning back to look at Sabretooth. The other man was staring straight at him as though he could see through the two-way mirror. He was breathing heavily as his mutant X-factor rapidly healed his shredded limb. There was hatred in his eyes and Wolverine's upper lip began to curl back to expose his oversized canines.

"Creepy," Morph commented, breaking the silence as he followed Wolverine's line of sight. He waved his arms over his head as if trying to catch Sabretooth's attention. "He can't _see_ us, can he?"

"Not a chance," Northstar shook his head. "Dis glass is tinted and mirrored."

"Don't mean he don't know we're here," Wolverine replied. "Got the same heightened senses as me - he can hear us an' smell us standin' out here." He turned away from the window to address the members of Alpha Flight. "Heather said you were sent to find him," he said, following a thought that had just come to mind. "Who sent ya?"

"Classified information," Puck shrugged.

"Don't give me that, bub," Wolverine growled. "I ain't in the mood."

"You're also not part of dis team," Aurora's eyes flashed. "You left _us_, _mon ami_. Do not presume to give _us_ orders - not after blaming us for t'ings we knew nothing about."

Morph held his breath.

"_Wolverine_,_ Morph_," Heather interrupted the standoff as her voice crackled over the intercom. "_Come down to the control room. We've just received a call from your team leader, Summers. He says it's important_."

Neither Wolverine nor Aurora said a word as the two X-Men made their way down the corridor.

****

TBC


End file.
